I don't look at
The crescent moon tilted
Over Blue Mountain Ridge
I am the moon and the tilting
The seeing inside sight
The dark ridgeline and pale white light

I don't watch this
Candleflame gently wavering
As I sit quietly breathing
I am bluefire inside the spear
The formless silence inside sitting
Invisible life within the breath

Nor do I listen to
This singing mountain stream
As Winter slips silently into Spring
I am the choirs within these tumbling waters
Still-point Eternity nested in the heart of Time
Bristled frost
Now warm sunlight
Forever cherry blossoms blooming