Green oceans of wheat, gold crested ripples

Eddies and swirls of no mind

Not seeing, all day

A humble place, free from care

Back to work

Numbers and clock time

Illusions of importance

Anxious rejection, lacking control, values crumbling

I am a dunce

The universe holds a mirror

Easily moved by beauty, such is my nature

Rivers pour a few phrases, and they just turn into this

Who says my this is that?

My this isn't that at all

When you understand that my this really isn't that, then we can talk this together

Nothing to do or change

All day I read the wordless poetry

All night I practice no practice

Sometimes I spend my time in meditation here

Sitting quietly, I let my pen fly

Suddenly this notebook is full

Some drift past in silence

Perhaps greener fields are just beyond for them

Others point finger and laugh, disclaiming, what is the reason for such foolishness?

Should I reply, they would never understand

Look around

There is nothing besides this