The cube of the Trinity—
Dante's vision of Beatrice
love, sweetness, beatitude

Double flame, the 9th hour's rays
the smile of the universe—
O joy! gladness! love & peace!

At the 27th step
of π, O God created
the soul of the universe

27 houses of the Moon
27 bones in the human hand
27th day— Mozart was born

Darkness upon the face of the deep—
the First Mystery— the Treasury
of the Light sings praises

at the foot of the mountain
thunder providing nourishment
perseverance brings good fortune

Be mindful— be aware of what you do,
all things spring from seeds,
the silence of wishes and desires

beyond words— the language of birds
a dark gorge babbles, a pine sighs
and solid mountains pass away

The arrow soars through space—
Can you produce or reduce the void?
Stop seeking and be tranquil.

Sincerity penetrates all spirits—
This is a place where flowers bloom,
trees dance and dreams melt away.

The truth that has not been taught—
"Not mind, not Buddha, not things"
Golden breeze— soft rain clouds the sky

the fragrance of spring flowers
yellow and blue and red,
wild-almond, lotus, magnolia

The wise open their wings to God
not as geese but as eagles—
good deeds return a thousandfold

The nightingale sang last night:
"The Endless has no end— the Tao
is Yin & Yang following each other."

The Rose Garden of Wisdom hides
mysteries pour rich orange round the
purple core, white daisy, white gold

The soul's impassioned flight—
mind's journey of beautous black night
and Phoenix light in the sunbeam

See the one in a thousand threads—
water in the stream, river, and pond,
the sea— falling snow in wintry air

Morns like these— we parted sleep
from the waking-dream and reap
nothing but the air burst into leaf

Awakening is the dissolving
of appearance, evaporation
of a dream, vanishing as an object

A blue streak— speed the Falcon
words like shafts of lightning
silent drums, summer of your heart

Consciousness of balance is Nirvana—
this universe— an eternal cycle
pulsating rhythm of thought & rest

The night is black as a black stone
carved stone upon stone, I sleep.
Can you tell the down from the up?

Summer is over, spring follows
winter as clover knows golden fruits,
roses answer the thorniest question

"The stone man is crying— why?"
I know not its meaning
"Only go straight— don't know"

but i am nought, i have nought—
be nothing to be filled up
holy emptiness is everywhere

Life is not holy because
it is beautiful. It is
beautiful because it is holy

Be generous with your time
rekindle the flame— Wake up!
We're all in heaven now.

— Peter Y. Chou
     Mountain View, 2-27-2004

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© Peter Y. Chou,
P.O. Box 390707, Mountain View, CA 94039
email: (2-28-2004)