Unconcerned

I hurt easy—

so the stone says nothing

as the rain falls.

A passing wind

breaks a branch somewhere—

no one notices the tree grieving.

Sixty seconds—

a lifetime

between two breaths.

The monk lowers his gaze,

then lifts it to the sky—

falling and rising

are the same path.

Truth gathers like clouds,

thick and convincing—

until the moon passes through them

without resistance.

He smiles at his own reflection

in the still water—

loving what was never there,

rejecting what has always been.

Petals drift,

unconcerned

with who feels their fall.