The Writing He Leaves Behind
The little kid
Is walking an ancient path
The rocks become brittle
And turn into sand
The little hill
Loves to feel his feet on its back
The little hill and he
Are good, loving, friends
Sometimes it rains
And memories of old friend river
Turn to memories of old friend mud
But he walks on with old friend wonder
And you can read his writing
Which he leaves behind
Written on the air
When you see
A leaf falling
Or when a bird
Flying through the sky
Is gone.
This came when I could not sleep at 3 or 4 from the pain.
I thought that what would come would be bitter, frustrated or something of this sort. But this came, almost as it is. I made only a few little changes. How can it be?
How can I be tortured physically and have this come through me?
What do you think?
For the time being, my body is there and my mind is here. Soon my body will start following my mind.
And where will I be then?
I used to be a graphic designer and an illustrator. I became involved with the Chan Meditation Center and studied meditation and Buddhist knowledge with the late Master Sheng-yen from Taiwan. For twelve years I was in a process of deepening my meditation. I had many more experiences and insights and my life changed. After having illustrated more than 40 children’s books and writing two of them, I left this career too and went to New York University to study art therapy.
