Friends Part Foreverwild Geese Lost In Cloud

Every Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.

My Body, Now Close To Fifty Years Of Age, Has Become An Old Tree That Bears Bitter Peaches, A Snail Which Has Lost Its Shell, A Bagworm Separated From Its Bag; It Drifts With The Winds And Clouds That Know No Destination. Morning And Night I Have Eaten Traveler's Fare, And Have Held Out For Alms A Pilgrim's Wallet.

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

What Is Important Is To Keep Our Mind High In The World Of True Understanding, And Returning To The World Of Our Daily Experience To Seek Therein The Truth Of Beauty. No Matter What We May Be Doing At A Given Moment, We Must Not Forget That Is Has A Bearing Upon Our Everlasting Self Which Is Poetry.

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.