Borne

Outside it is as it was.

So many turns to take,

and the road runs straight.

Inside, no different

reflecting time spent.

Fear hangs firmly,

pushed under vainly,

recalled seldom.

Never summoned,

an atmosphere

refusing banishment.

Offspring spring forth,

embrace gleeful hope;

wings wilt instantly

in thickly-heated gasps

stunned, descending

into welcoming

arrogant arms.

Soul Sup

Close your eyes. Let the string go.

Don't worry about your feet.

Don't worry if you know.

Just flow.

 

Do not dream. Do not respond.

Allow yourself to flutter

like the bamboo frond

wind-wand.

 

Energy will fill you up.

Invigorate your self.

Drink from the cup;

soul sup.

 

I will surely see you there

in your lotus boat

languid by the stair

elsewhere.

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