Every word they said

Each thing done

Have been the engineers

The architects


The geysers of emotion

Washed my skin

Sometimes in acid anger

And betrayal


Soft balms of love

And support

Rare at this stake

No blues here!


For every trace

On the trellis of life

Has me woven

Into tapestry


Each eggshell shard

Of knowledge stored

With the winter squirrels

Under the oak


At the point before mind

The nascent world

Is yet to become

And so still, it’s here


Each soft caress of fate

Has sculpted my clay

And fired me

In the ovens


Eyes without glaze

Look cosmos past

The aching mundane

To Sirius and beyond


And were it not

For each hand

Each finger

I would not be where


At this place

In this time

Now the eternal

The fleeting second of forever

The Second Sword of Taia

“Well then, the accomplished man uses the sword but does not kill others. He uses the sword and gives others life. When it is necessary to kill, he kills. When it is necessary to give life, he gives life. When killing, he kills in complete concentration; when giving life, he gives life in complete concentration.”


The Unfettered Mind,  Takuan Sōhō, Translated by William Scott Wilson,   Kodansha International,  17-14 Otowa-1-chome, Bunyo-ku, Tokyo 112-8652.


The Sword of Taia

needs no tsuba

for what point



When steel

leaves saya

destiny listens


to motion


Resting before

the point of mind

is born,

sleeps peace,

afterwards not


In daishō

ever paired

the small

and the large


The close and

the far

range is


even cosmic


Sparing sharp

the sword

drawn on need

and not,



The Sword of Taia

is the Zen

of life and death,

its edge,



The when

of define

the swish

of moment,

which moves


Slicing the four winds

ever now

in the Satori

without gates,

or chains


When saya clicks

no mind point

attained again

before any thought

and return


A dawning instant

calls out blades

the point of mind

and action,

this too passes


The Sword of Taia

is birth

and in its birth

comes death


In its death

restive sleeping

is new birth

ready to flash,



The Sword of Taia

holds lightning


for they are

the same


This sword

ever dances

the edge

the nascent precipice

of life and living


And that

is a very

very sharp



dharma of the day #7

be not fixated on perceived goals

whatever they may be

be thankful for the presents

already in your hands


the grass in the field next

is the same as this one

why peer ever longing over fences

when you already have bounty?


constant measuring with scales

makes cataracts for the eyes

the milky vision of which

is blinding to the awesome now

in all its magnificence


live mind-full and aware

of your state of being

for this can dress reality

in unfamiliar clothes

which do not actually fit


seek only the mountain stream

of clear and quenching calm

as fluid as a virgin brook

into which no palms have entered

be as nascent as a five year old

and as full of wonder


put aside the prison of pettiness

and soar on eagle’s wings

stretch out your being

so as to encompass

all the universe


learn the meaning of one

for you are one

and should you choose to see

you might be at one with all

all boundaries are constructs of mind


learn to ebb and flow

seek out the rhythm

and tap your toes to it

drum your fingers

feel the pulse of Dao in your veins


drop your shoulders

relax for the yoke of apparent burden

is what weighs you down

are you an Ox tethered in life

or a magnificent adventurer?


from time to time seek out silence

for there will you find treasure

amidst all the hubris

and hidden under leaves

to know silence intimately, enlightens


silence is a candle

which flickers in the core

to touch such as this

brings hints of eternity

with which to beautify the mundane


embrace silence, it is a friend

and most of all, a teacher

listen to his whisper

for he has much and nothing

to tell you


and when you hear nothing for

the very first time

you will be amazed and in awe

it is my wish for you

that you will hear the chimes

of nothing, profoundly


for this is the naked canvas

upon which you might paint

the tapestry of your life

full of sound, colour and movement.