Here, on this bleak,
far shore of a life,
still reading the poems
of the Chinese masters
dust for a millennia, still
feeling that a veil, between
this transient existence
and some permanent state
of being / non-being
beyond, has been pierced
by their sharp words, carved
and flung into time
as poems, reaching
past mere meaning
towards essence.
03.04.2021
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