A Thicket Of Summer Grass / Is

Plunge Deep Enough In Order To See Something That Is Hidden And Glimmering.

I Felt Quite At Home, / As If It Were Mine Sleeping Lazily / In This House Of Fresh Air.

When Your Consciousness Has Become Ripe In True Zazen-pure Like Clear Water, Like A Serene Mountain Lake, Not Moved By Any Wind-then Anything May Serve As A Medium For Realization.

A Weathered Skeleton In Windy Fields Of Memory, Piercing Like A Knife.

An Autumn Night - Don’t Think Your Life Didn’t Matter.