The things you see are real, but they are not a complete seeing — Samsara.
when I find my way backinto the poem you
Nonchalantly,a fly lands on my shoulder.Proceeds to begin crawlingdown my arm.I am still.But it must sense thatI am very much…
The meditating sunSubmergedIn a fluid tranceOn an ephemeral evening,The crimson auraFusing with the shifting blue…