The ancient Masters slept
without dreams and woke up without worries.
Their breath came from deep inside them. They didn’t cling
to life, weren’t anxious about death. They emerged without desire
and reentered without resistance. They came easily; they went easily.
They didn’t ask where they were from; they didn’t ask where
they were going. They took everything as it came,
gladly, and walked into death without fear.
They accepted life as a gift, and
they handed it back
gratefully.
All obstructions
of defilements and karmas of worry
and trouble, are in origin, empty. All causes and
effects are dreams and illusions. The great Way is empty
and vast. It is beyond thought and deliberation.
You, at this instant, have this dharma
and are without lack.
Life is a dream,
the years pass by like flowing waters.
Glamour and glory are transient as autumn smoke;
what tragedy — for with the sun set deeply in the
west, still there are those lost among
paths of disillusionment.
Our heart
should be clear as ice.
Forget all the worldly nonsense.
Sit calmly, breathe quietly, heart bright
and spotless as an empty mirror.
This is the path to
the buddha’s
table.