Sad

-
Impermanence,
even in those
aspects of "dharma"
I cling to the most.

The moment,
the past dissolved
like a distraction thought;
an instant
constantly remaking itself:
the tip of a pin.

An ocean
of beings,
all of them me,
me all of them.

The heart
in my chest:
molten,
broken,
the wind passing through.

The future:
an illusion,
water on a desert highway
that never arrives.

The nature
of being:
an eyelash,
hard to find
with ego's eye.

The light,
radiating out
with nowhere
to go.