November 03^rd, 2016

She is like white clouds
Rising from the mountains,
No-mind from the start.
She is like the roosting bird
Who feels no longing
For the woods of home.
Because this person of the Way
Happens to enjoy
The mountains and streams,
She wanders among them,
Unconcerned about how deep
Into the lakeside mountain peaks she goes.
She has gone to the empty cliffs
To pay respect to
The hundred thousand forms of the Buddha.