Wabi-Sabi

Craters on a Blood Moon's surface
Pale skin - scarred and imperfect
First eye blind, third is narcoleptic
Second getting tired of the constant reflection
In the mirror. I am the King of Halloween Town
Pressure of the world - it is bringing me down
Surgical scars on a broken down body
And a nervous system on fire. Melancholy
Of a perfectionist in an imperfect existence
Futile resistance - chaos will persist and
You'll never be as pure as you feel inside
So why even try
Enso circles, insect - broken wings
And a broken heart that still loves, still beats
Dreams of beauty, mathematics, and purpose
Alas, nothing is perfect

Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa
Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em
With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree
My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi

Third day frost, The Cold Mountain Master
As I slow down, the time - it goes faster
Mind full of memories of a Golden Age
When freedom was mine and I knew no pain
A little Buddha sheltered by the palace walls
But they've all crumbled down as the sand falls
The dews of Adashino, sakura awaken
But only for a moment then fall like snowflakes and
Fade away. The first mark of existence
One minute it's here, then it's gone in an instant
Sic transit, footprint of the elephant
Meditate on the supreme. The elements
Change with the seasons and the sun showers
Shine bright from the sky and give life to flowers
And while your garden breathes, you should nourish it
'Cause winter will return again; nothing is permanent

Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa
Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em
With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree
My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi

A spider spinning webs in the corner of the room
Three candles melted down to their waxy tombs
A feather on the table, dried ink on its tip
An energy that looms where the author used to sit
Though he's underground, his words live in these chambers
Poems from beyond fill up the old papers
And the papers fill the room like trees in a jungle
Not a single poem finished though. Just thought bubbles
From an infinite mind that couldn't find resolutions
Unfinished symphonies; stories with no conclusions
Incomplete sentences even in full stops
'Cause words are insufficient for vibes and full hearts
Now legend says - the dead man will return
And continue his tales while the three candles burn
See our lights change forms but they never diminish
So the story continues; nothing is finished

Circles in sand gardens - views from my engawa
Pink petals, hands spin - I could never stop 'em
With mindfulness I watch 'em, under the Bodhi Tree
My mind is sublime in Wabi-Sabi