Two a misapprehension
There is only ever one
And yet are also two
No apprehension too

Like rice and barley
Found mixed up together
Letting go in the moment
Holding without grasping


This is based on an old Zen story, but sadly even though I recall the story and its moral I cannot relocate it. Anyone?

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on February 21, 2014, in Poems and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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