Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow

Hurry up, please, its time.

What have we given? My friend, blood shaking my heart The awful daring of a moment's surrender Which an age of prudence can never retract By this, and this only, we have existed.

Cold Mountain Buddhas Han Shan Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness be dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth.

Till Human voices wake us, and we drown.

For you know only a heap of broken images

I say to you: Make perfect your will. / I say: take no thought of the harvest, / But only of proper sowing.