He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.
~ William Blake
Sitting on top of a boulder
The gorge stream icy cold
Quiet fun holds a special charm
Fogged-in on deserted cliffs
A fine place to rest
The sun leans and tree shadows sprawl
While I view the ground of my mind
A lotus comes out of the mud.
– Cold Mountain
Reaching my hut built of quiet mystery,
I sweep clouds away and settle into repose.
There’s no one left to climb with me beyond
Slippery moss and frail vines to this peak
Where autumn winds bluster and breeze
And spring grasses grow lush and green.
You’re traveling beyond hope of return.
– Hsieh Ling-yun
lei fraser 