The Ballad of Wu Wei and Kokoro

Although it's true there is no doing, love does undo. And as a poem is the undoing of that infinite potentiality,

consciousness is the empty poet. Yellow leaves are blown away by an early September cold front—inspirational!

The world is the childish thing that love lets go—One Corinthians Thirteen Eleven.

The meeting of the mind and revelation is like the smoke of pen and paper—remember to come up for being!

Ice, forsythia, fireworks, and transformation—thought does you and love undoes me. There is no personal doing.