black
grey
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Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.

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Learn the rules, and then forget them.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Year’s end, all corners of this floating world, swept.
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