Riding effortlessly on a large green turtle


be empty

in nothing,

see perfect black

in perfect white


no divide;

an empty cup

with space enough

to be filled by a beauty unknown,

with bliss,

a union

of silent echoes,

moments fit for something divine


to rise;

when everything stops

only to begin again;

I fade

to find

all as it was.

‘Entering the forest he moves not the grass;

Entering the water he makes not a ripple.’


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