Antonio Taishin AranaGendro202008 2


In this time of discredit
I walk on the path
with open hands
caressing the ripe barley ears


Following the path,
we walk in silent coincidence
to the limits of our domain.
It's dusk,
and the trees have no more leaves.
Barely playing
I smile at every step
in this round trip
of illusions and awakenings.




Only light
not even the breath
No threshold,
No house,
No way to leave an imprint.
Detached from everything,
fully inhabited.
in the vegetable garden,
orphans, my fear and me,
I tear my shirt
and abandon it now
to the whims of the weather.
These hands
Who in these times of discredit
caressed your body and the ears,
caress them now
the slight to-and-fro of the sea.



Leaves here and there: innumerable.
Morning time: 7 a.m.
Dharma practitioners: 6.
Bare trees in the square: 5.
Footsteps on the path of ophite: 4.
Degrees below zero: 3
And all, all this: 1.
ONE without two.

In your eyes I look at myself:
if I see you.


Autumn dresses you up
of your most beautiful clothes:
your nudity.

Tags: NL31

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