Upon the lake so vast and wide,
A monk drifts slow with quiet pride.
His oar untouched, the waters glide,
A world at peace on nature’s tide.
The morning mist in silver sways,
As sunlight melts the night’s last haze.
He sits in stillness, lost in thought,
Where time dissolves, where self is naught.
The ripples whisper ancient lore,
A hush upon the liquid floor.
No past to chase, no fate to find,
Just breath, just now, just peace of mind.
A heron lifts with wings outspread,
Its silent flight, a truth unsaid.
The monk but watches, calm, aware,
No need to grasp, no need to snare.
The boat drifts on, yet he remains,
A soul unchained by hopes or pains.
The river bends, the trees bow low,
All things align, all things let go.
The sky and water, one the same,
No lines to trace, no path to name.
The monk dissolves into the deep,
A dream, a breath, a thought asleep.
And when the dusk ignites the sky,
The stars reflect in stillness nigh.
No start, no end, no need, no fear—
Just endless now, both far and near.
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