Because You Cannot See Him, God Is

Even If You Have The Wit To Look By Yourself In A Bush Away From The Other Children, There Are Not Many Bell Crickets In The World. Probably You Will Find A Girl Like A Grasshopper Whom You Think Is A Bell Cricket.and Finally, To Your Clouded, Wounded Heart, Even A True Bell Cricket Will Seem Like A Grasshopper. Should That Day Come, When It Seems To You That The World Is Only Full Of Grasshoppers, I Will Think It A Pity That You Have No Way To Remember Tonight's Play Of Light, When Your Name Was Written In Green By Your Beautiful Lantern On A Girl's Breast.

But A Haiku By Buson Came Into His Mind: 'i Try To Forget This Senile Love; A Chilly Autumn Shower.' The Gloom Only Grew Denser.

The Snow On The Distant Mountains Was Soft And Creamy, As If Veiled In A Faint Smoke.

Seeing The Moon, He Becomes The Moon, The Moon Seen By Him Becomes Him. He Sinks Into Nature, Becomes One With Nature. The Light Of The "clear Heart" Of The Priest, Seated In The Meditation Hall In The Darkness Before The Dawn, Becomes For The Dawn Moon Its Own Light.

The Winter Moon Becomes A Companion, The Heart Of The Priest, Sunk In Meditation Upon Religion And Philosophy, There In The Mountain Hall, Is Engaged In A Delicate Interplay And Exchange With The Moon; And It Is This Of Which The Poet Sings.