You can't explain 'sitting in the fire' to someone with fire phobia.

You can't describe No-Mind to one invested in building-up the false self.

You can't convey the riches of true effluence

to people focused on cashing-in as "influencers."

It has nothing at all to do with affluence.

 

The ocean is the bride to the Rain God.

He sends his love notes through rivers that run down the mountain.

Equidistant in matter, simultaneous in time,

there is the deep mountain spring that knows everything

about the ancient method for feeding and restoring itself.

 

Someone once asked Dàxióng what her ultimate goal was.

She smiled, said nothing.

 

"No, really. Do you want to be widely known? Do you want to travel the lecture circuit?" the querent persisted.

She smiled, said nothing.


(c) 2017 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com

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