Even as my hands lift and strain, the wind blows away every thought of my doing. The wind blows away every part of self and leaves emptiness upon which motion plays. The wind is within. Look there and have no more need of these words.
Even as my hands lift and strain, the wind blows away every thought of my doing. The wind blows away every part of self and leaves emptiness upon which motion plays. The wind is within. Look there and have no more need of these words.