Sometimes time slips by.
Sometimes it rewinds,
and collects unspent energy.
Either way, time is a resource,
a curse, a pathway
into willingness
stillness, and procrastination.
Either way,
Time is itself
and you are
just Time in the Making.

060321

It’s happened before, yet how will it happen again?
Perhaps it will be done before it has started?
Perhaps it’s done and finished?
Perhaps it’s finished and no-one will notice.
Thus is creation, its own reflection,
incomplete science jettisons us
straight into absurdity.

060321 v2

Spring is passing!
Birds are singing, fish weeping
With tearful eyes.

Matsuo Bashō, Narrow Road to the Deep North (Oku no hosomichi, 奥の細道)

Such wonderful introspective qualities in all of Bashō’s work, where spirituality meets the Earth, like lightning creating an arc of light over the horizon. Then there’s Issa (Cup of Tea), another Haiku poet that I love, for his material tends to speak for the voiceless, and transcends the earthly realm, being earthly nonetheless, and like Basho, Issa’s work contains a heavy amount of voidness and beauty.

Even with insects—
some can sing,
some can’t.

Kobayashi Issa [all the time I pray to Buddha]

And my favorite of all time:

On a branch
floating downriver
a cricket, singing.

Kobayashi Issa [On a branch …]

You’re ever so multilayered,
and complex in design.
Your breath is music,
as is your skin,
a beautiful canvas
resisting gravity,
and its
past trauma.
You are effervescent,
and thought provoking.
One with history,
and enlightening
trajectories in the making.
You are a child of the universe.
Born from the need,
for a better future and home,
for all sentient beings and distant cousins,
beyond Here/Now.
Yes, you are loved,
forever and always.
Just continue being
who you are,
and strive for the Light.

And

Life is a sequence of events,
as are thoughts.
One can be edited,
in real time, as
the other tends, to
fade quick and,
jump out of
step.
Eventually nothing makes sense,
to the observer,
the observed,
and so on.
We live in a dream.

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