sitting in an office in
new york, surrounded by imminent
reality
it is difficult to accept
buddha’s teaching,
“all is
illusion.”
flying east through
timeless night over an
invisible ocean
toward dawn,
past
unnamable cloud-shapes
into the hazy
light of a tired business
day
it is difficult not to accept
buddha’s teaching,
“all is
illusion.”
sitting in an office in
new york, how can anyone believe
this is
real?