(no subject)

[let_it_grow]

All along the trail of moss,
I followed your wooden shoeprints.
White clouds hung around
Your little island where spring
Grass hid your unlocked door.
I enjoyed the colors of pines after rain
And reached the river’s source
Along the mountain trail.
Facing the stream and the flowers
I came inside a sense of Zen,
Yet cannot find the words.

- Liu Chang Ching (709-780)