I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.