The poet

The poet sees the light
that seeps through
the breaches of the heart.

With only letters at his disposal,
he strings them together
to express what is silent.

He then sets them free
becoming the morning breeze
that embraces the broken.

Kenza.

Inspiration: reading Hafez in the early morning. 

Ryōkan’s hut

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Often, I think I am in Ryōkan’s hut.
The sky is framed by the window,
birds come on the window sill chirping away
enthralled by the morning glory overflowing its small pot.
Cars pass intermittently in a muffled sound.
Rain falls gently on the roof
and I pretend it is thatched.
I sit like he did.
I push aside the woes of the world,
my mind at peace.
You may understand, you may not,
and that is fine.
As Ryōkan wrote,
“Who can indeed content himself with this manner of life,
Unless he has seen himself altogether lost in the world.”

Kenza.


– Quote from one of Ryōkan’s (Japan, 1758-1831) Chinese poems.
Art: self-portrait by Ryōkan.