The temple on the mountain stands empty,
doors open to wind and sky.
No incense burns,
no bell is struck.
Yet the floor is swept clean
by silence itself.
Thoughts rise, then pass,
like clouds forgetting their shapes.
Nothing clings to the walls,
nothing asks to remain.
The emptiness holds everything
without effort.
In this stillness,
the mind becomes like the temple—
open, unguarded, complete.
No need to enter.
No need to leave.
The mountain knows,
and the heart remembers.
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