Judge the wisdom of a man by the ease with which he handles the Tao of change.
The Way of the Seed,
We grow,
To blossom into...
This.
The flowering of our innermost being.
The pinnacle...
To see no end.
Who we truly are,
We do not have to say.
Being is a thickening...
Of no-thing.
I make manifest the perfection of our Soul,
In every act of being myself perfectly.
My only power is that power has no power over me.
My only wisdom is that I am woefully ignorant.
My only possession is not mine.
I smell no flowers...
The flowers smell themselves.
I do not see myself...
Therefore myself is seen.
I do not hear the silence...
So silence is heard.
If not for tastelessness...
How would taste be known?
I touch nothing...
Yet I am touched by everything.
I know nothing...
So what then is unknown?
You're not me and I'm not you...
But our "self" is the same.
There is something...
But it is not like anything you ever thought.
Existence exists, nothing else...
I know nothing of ignorance or enlightenment,
I know only of being what I am,
What is that?
Nothing in particular.
What was it like?
Like losing your flashlight...
But finding the dawn.
I can teach you nothing,
For I know nothing...
But I can show you how to forget all you thought you knew.
There is no past or future...
Only this moment...
You die and are reborn in this moment,
Every moment...
What will you do with your next life?
You must give up this life
In a selfless act of living.
We are two mirrors reflecting emptiness eternally...
A ruler measuring itself...
Awareness of itself.
What is this?
I know that I know I don't know,
But who is the me that knows,
When I know what I know I don't know?
Being kept from knowing what you don't know,
By knowing what you know?
I chase and it runs...
I stop and it finds me.
How could I ask you to remember me...
When I forgot myself?
All phenomena are illusory...
Our nature is empty space.
This does not negate existence,
But is the womb of all being.
Who knows the answer if not the asker?
I measure emptiness...
By drinking it all.
I cannot breathe,
For the beauty of breathing
Takes my breath.
All being is mutually arising...
To capture a moment...
Cannot be done...
And so I move along...
The second left to the right.
If you cannot find beauty in death...
Is that not the death of beauty?
The best Way leaves no traces,
The best method does not need employed,
The best person does not distinguish great and small.
Though the Way cannot be traced all follow it unerringly.
Though the method is not employed it fulfills its function.
Though great and small are not distinguished hairs must be cut and mountains must be climbed.
The world is but a breath...
A long exhale...
A thousand pleasurable sighs.

By me (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif), for you.