Wabi-Sabi

Craters on a Blood Moon's surface Pale skin - scarred and imperfect First eye blind, third is narcoleptic Second getting tired of the constant reflection In the mirror. I am the King of Halloween Town Pressure of the world - it is bringing me down Surgical scars on a broken down body And a nervous system on fire. Melancholy Of a perfectionist in an imperfect existence Futile resistance - chaos will persist and You'll never be as pure as you feel inside So why even try Enso circles, insect - broken wings And a broken heart that still loves, still beats Dreams of beauty, mathematics, and purpose Alas, nothing is perfect Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi Third day frost, The Cold Mountain Master As I slow down, the time - it goes faster Mind full of memories of a Golden Age When freedom was mine and I knew no pain A little Buddha sheltered by the palace walls But they've all crumbled down as the sand falls The dews of Adashino, sakura awaken But only for a moment then fall like snowflakes and Fade away. The first mark of existence One minute it's here, then it's gone in an instant Sic transit, footprint of the elephant Meditate on the supreme. The elements Change with the seasons and the sun showers Shine bright from the sky and give life to flowers And while your garden breathes, you should nourish it 'Cause winter will return again; nothing is permanent Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi A spider spinning webs in the corner of the room Three candles melted down to their waxy tombs A feather on the table, dried ink on its tip An energy that looms where the author used to sit Though he's underground, his words live in these chambers Poems from beyond fill up the old papers And the papers fill the room like trees in a jungle Not a single poem finished though. Just thought bubbles From an infinite mind that couldn't find resolutions Unfinished symphonies; stories with no conclusions Incomplete sentences even in full stops 'Cause words are insufficient for vibes and full hearts Now legend says - the dead man will return And continue his tales while the three candles burn See our lights change forms but they never diminish So the story continues; nothing is finished Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi