Moon’s Shadow
My heart, a clear lake, becomes a mirror.
Though the sun, stars, clouds, and flowers
take turns appearing upon its surface,
it will hold only your apparition,
shining white against the night sky.
The Scripture Without Words
Shall I call it an apple, or shall I call it fruit?
Shall I call it a fountain, or shall I call it water?
Though they seem different, all are one,
so let me call them mind.
Dew upon a blade of grass vanishes beneath the sun.
Neither truly existing, nor truly nonexistent,
all things throughout the universe
are a scripture without words.
Seen through the eyes of wisdom, everything is but a shadow.
When wildflowers bloom, the hillside grows bright.
Let us all, here upon this hillside, tend the trees that bear flowers.
