Let the land open in a field of spring,
lotuses, tulips, daisies, and irises
compose a picture of serenity.
The soft-spoken are heard outside their shells.
A window leads to another world of sound and sight.
Like Buddha, compassion is all that’s left.
Nature survives amongst the heavens.
Radiance vibrates throughout everything we see,
like a beauty its rawness, a truth in all of us.
Buddhahood exists in the path of which we seek.
A thumping wildness in every part of us,
more than tranquil waters coursing through us.
We’ve shaped ourselves to the soil,
nurturing wholesomeness that flourishes inside.
We thrive in the rain and sunlight,
memories tell no tales of woe and rage.
A flutter of souls departs from our caged creation.
Wisdom emerges from our sage selves.
We transcend the cycle of suffering,
a mind in mindfulness not forgotten.
Not adrift but resolute in faith unwavering,
we’re blessed with the gifts bestowed upon us,
in a world so pristine we choose jubilation,
a vision that blooms in each brightening day.