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May 27 · 102
Nembutsu Piper
Kobu Sagiyama May 27
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.
A Pure Land Buddhist poem.
May 27 · 66
The Purest Grace
Kobu Sagiyama May 27
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!'
A Pure Land Buddhist poem

— The End —