Of Sartre and Camus
and the rest of the host
(too many besides)
to them should we toast?

I am a Zen-man
struggle in reason
I'll not-- what life metes
humbly I accept---it's prison

to live in the mind
questioning is dumb
ten thousand doubts
emerge---what a dreadful outcome!

all that's in life is
pure such-ness
call a rose by ten other names
it will still but be its intrinsic loveliness

the river is the river
the hill is the hill
the hour is the hour
that which is still is still

of the universe I am part
without me it's not integral or whole
only in this blend will my heart
find its peace--we are the substance of the same pole

drawn from the field of void's mystery
in the eons of time-- beyond any intelligent telling
self is delusion, we are one of the Many
which is the meaning beyond all meaning

that which is truth
has no name to it attached
the Tao is the way
to nothing attached

of Sartre and Camus, also all those in the Restless Band
the clamour for understanding, the angst and the anguish
in the existential absurdity--from that I walk far away
in Zen's teachings I abide which all doubts extinguish.