Without a jot of ambition left
I let my nature flow where it will
There are ten days of rice in my bag
And, by the hearth, a bundle of firewood.
Who prattles of illusion of Nirvana?
Forgetting the equal dusts of name and fortune,
Listening to the night rain on the roof of my hut,
I sit at ease, both legs stretched out.
About Inner Ventures
Evolutionary Counsellor facilitator and guide on a spiritual path. Craftsman in wood, creative writer, environmentalist & change agent. This blog is my way of promoting my skills, ideas, concerns for the planet, creative work, spiritual searches and philosophy of life in a public forum.
This entry was posted in Poetry by others
. Bookmark the permalink