quiet

everything is already here
moving at a good speed
residing in the right place
smelling like fresh-baked bread.
vibrating
as if everything wants to be
alive.
the temple shines
the grass greens
the bell sounds all over the world.
all is holy
in the perfect unholy sense
in the faith of itself
and the smell of all there is...

tobiishi sink into the soil
are overcome by ivy and moss.

but the garden path is still there.
the tea house slumbers,
the twigs in their vase await,

tea will come again
in its own time.


gassho from my knees
tobiishi