A flute with no holes is not a flute.
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.