footprints in the soft mud

Jamyang Dorjee Chakrishar

Walking the field of bones, late at night.

Moonlight on old white bones, 

the field is full of them.

Bones on the earth. In moonlight.

I have fired the old ghosts, 

the new ghosts take over tomorrow, 

I suppose it is ridiculous to expect better results. 

Still, the moon is full, 

and walking this field of bones 

is a somewhat crunchy experience. 

Listen! 

Do you hear that howling in the distance? 

That's a nice touch! 

James Lee Jobe 

It takes courage to accept life fully, to say yes to our life, yes to our karma, yes to our mind, emotions and whatever else unfolds.

Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche

Citizens in the land of hatred.

Together, as one, 

we were the ghost who didn't return.

Even our footprints in the soft mud

held only emptiness and silence. 

Even our heartbeats were empty.

Our eyes.

james lee jobe

Zhou Tianya - watercolor

The mind — What shall we call it? It is the sound of the breeze that blows through the pines in the ink wash picture.

Ikkyu

The church of the bees.

Bees in worship; the love of the hive. 

A stranger sits in our house, sipping tea; clearly 

we can see the outline of the gun beneath his jacket. 

On long summer days the tree tops reach for the sun 

While at the same time their roots dig into the earth. 

In winter, rain; we love the feel of cold water. 

Understanding is a goal; it can be reached 

by hard and steady effort. Work. Patience. 

Beside the barn, the old mare is saddled and waiting. 

I will ride west, but slowly. Sunset will take me. 

Bees in worship; the love of the hive. 

James Lee Jobe

LINK: Masculinity Ode, a poem by Ally Ang

You can help support this blog with the donation of a coffee. The icon to click is just below. Thanks, 

james