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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.
Written by
Kobu Sagiyama
94
 
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