You may seek to follow
the path of the dove
a fool know many roads.
You may wrap yourself
in fine linen, an infant
wears only his skin
and knows this moment
is already gone.

Think long before you speak
of how to walk
along the path, of where it leads.
The baby says nothing,
will not speak of where
he has been,
where he is going, for to him
there is only here,
and silence
is descriptive enough.

A reflection on case 92 of the Iron Flute Koans


The infant girl smiles with infinite knowledge,
present wholly in this moment, knowing
no other, her eyes speaking with the wisdom
of all who have gone before her.
In those eyes your heart hears stories
of universes waiting to born, collapsing
inward, naked singularities, and compassion.
She doesn’t offer to teach you, but you
cannot help but look into her and learn.
Everyone can be a Buddha, she says,
all are, but too soon we forget and spend
so much of our lives trying to regain
the Buddha nature with which
each of us emerges from the womb.