She hears beyond ten,
the sound of one hand clapping.
Nothing comes to mind
Business of being
is busybodying self,
needs no false witness
Mental o' pedal
tormenter love to meddle
what a nomenclature
Left behind, acres
of forest writings. None
the wiser on walls
This life's an empty
breath. A garden ain't here to
impress or placate.
Dumpty the great fall,
silent while branches grew tall.
Come hear, creator
To scramble mother's nature is human nature.
By the creek we sit dormant
Filling the empty spaces with sensational ornaments
Like a Christmas tree
We can be turned from plain
All it takes is for you to sit and be still
So that one day
You can be the ruler of your world as well
The incessant untrained mind
Is like a dripping faucet with an open drain;
Never full of contentment, never empty of thought.
The stable training mind
Is like a dripping faucet with a closed drain;
On the way to fullness, every drop of mindful practice adds up.
The overflowing master's mind
Is like an overflowing tub with a constant faucet and closed drain.
Full of bliss, he stands as a totem of overflowing wisdom and insight.
— The End —