Poem for the Wangapeka Sangha

In nothingness, perhaps perceived,
And space, illumined,
Are unbegotten voices;
Soundings, gatherings, distillings,
nurturings, weepings, sheddings,
transformings.

In these unuttered realms of eternity,
In vast empty awareness,
At the edge of the abyss,
Rivers pour into waterfalls of becoming,
Our hands reach, meet, and join,
Briefly, foolishly, passionately.

Here, blessings fall like rain,
Whispers of time unfolding eternally,
Journeys always renewing,
Ever bright, ever possible,
Like a flash of lightning in summer clouds,
Like sun storms in the aurora borealis.

The bell at mealtime
Forest walking
Tarchin's classes
Kitchen cooking
Fires at supper
Sangha circles
DNA to the land
Stars and sun
Telescopes and microscopes
Meditations in moonlight
Breathing with green plants
Washing windows with Mary
Rocks and water
Practicing Leandering
Pigs on the path
Massaging the senses
Mountains and streams
Trees and wind
Sila, Samadhi, Panna
Chenresig and sankharas.

Om, Ah, Hum.
The Heart of the Matter,
Without beginning, middle or end,
Friends, teachers, whole-ons,
Radiant beings,
Be Well, Be Happy, Be Free.