For all these years, my certain Zen: neither I nor the world exist. The sutras neat within the box, my staff hooked upon the wall, I lie at peace in moonlight. Or, hearing water plashing on the rock, sit up. None can purchase pleasure such as this: spangled across the step-moss, a million coins!
Mind set free in the Dharma-realm,
I sit at the moon-filled window
Watching the mountains with my ears,
Hearing the stream with open eyes.
Each molecule preaches perfect law,
Each moment chants true sutra:
The most fleeting thought is timeless,
A single hair's enough to stir the sea.