on being a Buddhist at the New Moon in the Year of the Water Dragon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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something written

(on being a Buddhist at the New Moon in the Year of the Water Dragon)

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“when you’re dead, you’re dead”

at least in Reality

until then, the blinds will be rolled up, letting in the sunlight

until the moon rises, down they come again;

one may have it today, the other the next

I, however, am alive this minute and will be dead soon.

Not knowing when is shared by everything

with anxiety or surprise.

 

not two, not two,

me and the moon, hanging in the sky

loving with the completeness of Buddha

and with the fearlessness of Jizo

gliding through Hell

freeing all beings;

floating lotus’ on the Dragon’s river

pearls spewed, made in the muck of It’s belly.

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