For though we might,
We cannot fight the wind;
Try as we may,
The mist eludes our grasp;
Shadows defy our clutches,
Rainclouds form,
The sun and moon rise and set
Despite our will;
Controlling nothing,
Still we do not see,
And frame our lives with an order
That is illusion,
Timetables and inventories
Of ignorance;
Labels and times and convenience
We set in stone that crumbles
Like sand before the winds
Of Impermanence;
Change is the symphony,
And fluid the score
Of this dharmakayic waltz,
And though we dance
We fancy ourselves but
Onlookers to the show;
That when the crashing finale
Resounds -- as it must --
We stop our ears and wail;
Not seeing, deaf to the choir
That has but turned the page
To sing a new song;
Our own melody ended,
We fade only to be played anew
From the string of another bow;
The song goes on, rising, falling,
And Bliss is the one
Who follows as the Piper leads
With Namu Amida Butsu.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
The purest form of grace I know
Is shown in vows forged long ago;
A bodhi mind aspired to save
All beings caught within the wave
Of grim Samsara's round of birth --
A mighty Vow that shook the earth;
While from the heavens flowers fell,
That fluttered to the deepest hell,
And dharma fragrance even there
Perfumed the dark and hopeless air;
Then devas, men and hungry ghosts --
In every realm these countless hosts --
Saw piercing their Samsaric night
A dazzling and unhindered Light,
And heard these words: 'Would you receive
Rebirth in Bliss? Then just believe
In My resolve and power to save
All beings from Samsara's wave,
And say My Name, My Name alone,
That at the end, when life is done,
I shall appear before your eyes;
(You have My word that your demise
Pertains to but conditioned things);
Your bodhi mind shall rise on wings
To Sukhavati's blissful shore,
And Namo Amitabha ever more!'
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 2:27 PM UTC