If I say I am without boundary,
how will you define me?
If I say I do not hear the words you say,
am I still listening?
If I look eastward,
whose direction is it?
If I swing my arm through the air,
are you the only one feeling the movement?
I exist here – distinct from
the willow tree and the lotus, yet
our paths cross when I see the
sun’s reflection and the moon’s shadow.
A dew drop glistens on
the elongated blade of grass.
I suspend them in time
through empty mind
free of other objects
the dew drop exists here
near my fingertips and
the moons light
within my palm.
