Reading about Chan Buddhist perspectives and philosophies affects people in different ways. As I explored one such text, I found myself writing this.

    not finding

“what is it?”
        i ask a gray-haired man

without opening his eyes
        he holds up a broom
    i walk away shaking my head

“what is it?”
        i ask a bearded sage

without saying a word
        he points to the sky
    i kick the dust from my heals

“what is it?”
        i ask a balding elder

without any warning
        he raps me on the head with a stick
    i wander off rubbing a welt

“what is it?”
        i ask the cold abyss

without a moment’s pause
        something rustles in the dark
    startling my heart

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