A week of quiet intimacy,
We respond to gongs, bells
and knocks on wood.
Speak only sutras
and necessities.
Move in meditation
amongst ghosts and hells
surrounded by power realms
and heavens with no eternity
We look for forms
of wisdom and compassion
on some middle path.
What am I
other than
impermanence?
Whilst chopping vegetables I’m distracted by the unborn, the undying, the unknown.
or sex.
View of the wall,
the weight of — body
my seat and feet.
What am I
other than impermanence?
Avoiding the void
with stillness.
We feed and clean
ourselves in silence.
All ending with a bow
in gratitude
in gassho.