On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening

Operating superficially, the mind is random in its activity and stale in its insights and images. However, with practice and experience the mind is freed from the skull, and the fresh and new can appear as though for the first time. It

I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.

How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.

Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.