What really is
there to say about Zen?
It is simply
there, speaking for itself
in syllables
that are not quite real
in the grand
illusion of the who, what, when, and where.
Mountains exist,
capped with snow,
and the fact
that one can see them is its own reward.
But one should
not look too hard.
Veils of mist
can quickly wipe them away
erasing their
white gleam from the eye,
erasing the
intervening miles and even the day.
And so it goes.
There is the art
of sweeping,
of tending the
garden.
Even Dr,
Pangloss agrees.
I sit and
wonder,
or not.
That is the
point.
The tea
practically pours itself.
~William Hammett
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