some are born
with the fire of creation
in their hands,
with the eyes of a god
to see,
& the heart
of a lion
to create
alone,
he set out
to fill his soul
with the ancient traditions
of china
his bones
absorbed the forces
of yin & yang
from the moving cloud
& running stream––
from the withered vine
twisted around an aging tree––
from the flying dragon
& the dancing phoenix
he mastered
the ink & the brush
the carving & the painting
the tian & the tao
he created
a calligraphy
of poetry
for the heart––
he discovered
the sacred beauty
in all things
on his journey
& he encountered
for a time
black
hell
he saw
the essence
of things––
the power,
the serenity
the courage
the anger
the smile
each work is a koan
of beauty––
gentle love is smooth
like water––
like a grain of sand
in a humongous ocean––
a zillion rays drift downward
from the rosy cloud––
clear mind
penetrates the nature of things––
the happy dream
breaks through––
the celestial steed
soars across the sky––
naturally perfect
as if created by heaven––
open minded and joyous––
such a spirit
can never die