This dewdrop world
Is but a dewdrop world
. . . and yet?
Isso
A delve into roses inside out.
The petals fan and flair with the nurture of dew.
Shadows pose behind and beyond; shapes and curtains flow.
Harmony of upside down and turn around in traces and hearts unfurl.
What self-conversation stumbles among the shapes that reveal a secret core?
To peer, without haste and permit the eyes and nose to investigate.
The hands and body bend to each shrine of nature.
. . . and yet?
Awake in the wild of impermanence, the temple
draws an adventurer.
What do I know of secrets I don't understand?
Like dew, a phantom or the flare of sunset gone. With hope revisited.
and yet . . . to awaken and arrive again at dawn.
Considet impermanence.
Find a metaphorical view.
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