the garden below my feet.   you make me more glad.

the wind that tattered itself through a poem.

what arrives and what departs?   ferryboats.

even the mere memory, voice transposed.   you, my family.

coming from the same, going to the same.   one path, isn’t it?

oh the sun, the sun, it has richer vocabulary than I words.

I think I need to meditate all over now, differently.

change says, you don’t really know me at all.

no malady exists without a life.   smile my dear.

sweet heaven is undiminished by my sight.