The Strong Sun

The strong sun
Dark clouds and wind.

The tree moves in the wind
Above a raven
Below the first mushrooms.

There is no watching
There is no hearing
Everything is seen and heard.

It doesn’t stop
This ever engine
Its constancy blinds us.

Seeing nature
Becoming Buddha

It is like
Walking all day
Without touching the ground.

Storms pass
The sun returns
Yet always the wind in the trees.

We want to love
But who can live up
To our ideal?

So we do not love
But keep faith
With our ideal.

We grow old
But die alone
Grasping our idol.

But living with love
Every day
We pass it on.

The Hermitage, Chapel Peak.


About Jamie Nicol

Living in the forested hills of Catalonia, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Zen teacher, recovering philosopher, small-scale natural farmer. Writing just what comes.
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