Cold Mountain

Today I sat before the cliff, sat a long time till mists had cleared. A single thread, the clear stream runs cold; a thousand yards the green peaks lift their heads. White clouds – the morning light is still. Moonrise – the lamp of night drifts upward. Body free from dust and stain, what cares […] Read more

Cold Mountain

Have I a body or have I none? Am I who I am or am I not? Pondering these questions, I sit leaning against the cliff while the years go by, till the green grass grows between my feet and the red dust settles on my head, and the men of the world, thinking me […] Read more