Thursday, March 26, 2009

1 - 2 - 3

one.

I tried once to write something I was thinking, but the pen was broken, so nothing needed to be written.

two.

Before dawn today, I picked some snot and put it next to me on the wooden bench. When rising sun lit on it, I saw Mt. Meru, and all the creatures that dwell there. Then I was the snot, and Mt. Meru was sitting next to me, writing. Later, a bird ate up a blob of snot.

three.

Are you almost there? You're already there. There was nowhere to go. There is not there. The journey was in your mind. But purely, here is no mind. Therefore, there was no journey.

You played with doubt as innocently as a child with a toy.

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