"Every day, priests exhaustively examine the Dharma
and incessantly chant complex sutras.
Prior to that, they should really learn
how to read the love letters
sent by the wind and rain,
the snow and moon.
Who needs the corrupt Buddhism of corpse-like masters?
Me, I've spent three decades alone in the mountains
and solved all of my koans there, 'Living Zen'
among the tall pines and high winds.
--Ikkyu Sojun (a.k.a. Crazy Cloud, 1394-1491), Zen hermit/poet
Golden pedestals of lineage falling.
Waves of regret crash on the shores of non-duality.
Another "teacher" falling and fallen, yet teaching-by-default.
Whole mandalas weeping at omissions, admissions, blame, fault.
The dark winds and gluttonous dripping fat of the Setting Sun World
has flowed into the Valley of the Great Eastern Sun again, thick and sickly.
There is anguish, fear, rage, confusion of heart-mind.
The wheel of the Dharma can turn forward or backward in an instant,
but troubled weather systems of human-failing does not defile the original teaching.
In this era of unskillful means,
and clownish unveiled shadows dancing,
when even the supposed "leader of leaders" declares:
"grab 'em by the pussy,"
everything is being carried back to the drawing board.
Perhaps the time has finally arrived
to sidestep human gurus and lineages of mindless obeyance
and find the Original Teacher of the original teacher
back out in the forest, under a tree that shades your own silent sitting.
(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com
sound: "Kuroda Bushi" / Tessen: Music for Shakuhachi / Cesar Viana