December 05^th, 2018

Searching for Taoist Ch'ang

The way, crossed by many paths,
The moss, by sandal tracks.
White clouds lean,
At rest on the silent island.
Fragrant grasses bar the idle gate.
Rain past, observe the color of the pines.
Out along the mountain, to the source,
Flowers in the stream reveal Ch'an's meaning.
Face to face, and all words gone.