Come, Butterfly It's Late- We've Miles To

On A Bare Branch A Crow Is Perched - Autumn Evening

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.

If I Had The Knack I'd Sing Like Cherry Flakes Falling

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

There Is Nothing You Can See That Is Not A Flower; There Is Nothing You Can Think That Is Not The Moon.