Year's End, All Corners Of This Floating

Every Day Is A Journey, And The Journey Itself Is Home.

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.

Year's End, All Corners Of This Floating World, Swept.

The Desire To Break The Silence With Constant Human Noise Is, I Believe, Precisely An Avoidance Of The Sacred Terror Of That Divine Encounter.

Friends Part Foreverwild Geese Lost In Cloud