When all thoughts
Are exhausted
I slip into the woods
And gather
A pile of shepherd’s purse.
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.
—Ryokan (1758-1831)
When all thoughts
Are exhausted
I slip into the woods
And gather
A pile of shepherd’s purse.
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.
—Ryokan (1758-1831)
| karinwritesdangerous… on Something Wonderful | |
| Terrie Wurzbacher on Something Wonderful | |
| karinwritesdangerous… on Writerly Words | |
| Terrie Wurzbacher on Writerly Words | |
| karinwritesdangerous… on Rookie Missteps |
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