Bodhku

Silent Air

I shall dress  wordlessness  in words— one silent syllable  at a time

Then I’ll dress  wordlessness  in air— silently breathing in  breathing out

(c) Wolfstuff

Bodhku

Me is a  vast basket Filled to the brim  with all these  non-me sundries

Bodhku

Anapanasati

Each inhale trawls  a trillion subtle fish Every exhale  sets them free

Bodhku

Relief

Finally, there is  just me— no past, no future no story, no plot

Bodhku

Our planet’s  cloak of darkness has sprung  many a leak— we call them Saints

Bodhku

What could possibly  delimit the Spaceless say, a sentient being

What tentacles could  possibly rein him in What barriers hold him

Other than a  conviction— I am walls I am doors They are all  closed

Or is it greed  that fake need to survive  that drives us  apart —warring

Bodhku

Zazen

When you sit  very, very still even the finest  movement sings out

Bodhku

Curtains

Language is just  another curtain between the spirit  and her truth

Meaning is just  another curtain between the spirit  and her truth

Beauty is just  another curtain between the spirit  and her truth

Breathing is just  another curtain between the spirit  and her truth