September 10^th, 2020

Bend down, and there it is:
No need to wrest it from others.
With the Way, in complete agreement
The mere touch of a hand is spring:
The way we come upon blooming flowers,
The way we see the year renew itself
What comes this way will stay;
What is gotten by force will drain away.
A secluded person in an empty mountain,
As rain drops, picks some blades of duckweed.
Freely to feel the flash of dawn:
Leisurely, with the celestial balance.