I seem to be in a poetic mood. So here goes...

Life is rushing all around me
People going here and there
I wonder, do they even take
one little minute to contemplate
who they are
in all their glory
do they even know
how divine energy
flows down to them
even now
in all their
rushing about?

I saw an interesting book titled "Japanese Death Poems" at the book store this weekend. It is a collection of poems translated from monks and samurai, who have written poems on the day of their death. Apparently, it is quite a tradition. There are some very beautiful poems in that book.

Here is a poem that I wrote, heh, however, it is not my death poem:

It's not the body
It's not the imagination
It's not the emotions
It's not the mind
It's not the unconscious
What is it?
Look where it is not
and you will find It