the tree..

by the clear water
there is a tree
grander than the ordinary
it blossoms when the season turns
the petals falling like rain
sweet to the eye
it does not sorrow at letting loose
it's fine beauty
for there will be another time
when life comes this way
as a bright awakening of color
the tree stands bare against the moonlight
looking stark and with a
beautiful substance of twisted
life climbing to the sky
the world comes and goes around it
moving, dancing...
the tree remains
and small buds arise
with the opening of spring
when all of life blooms and
there are new and bright scents about..
green tendrils appear
when the sun warms
and the world moves about
coming and going...
yet the tree does not sorrow
or bear any loss from the change
it lives as it is
in ripe flowering or naked beauty
as grace is the master of this arising
that is a sweet painting in motion
not of the mind
not of the world
not of the one that hurries by
not of any-body...
it is as it is
such is the way of pure life

in the clear waters of consciousness
the world appears
as a reflection
that goes in it's time
seeming so filled when it comes
but passing away no matter
and the one that is to see what is here
without grasping
is not like a one that forgets
this heart
that shines awake always
as a bright morning dawn
awake always