Ground if .... tastes like certainty.
The flowing stream doesn't freeze / Do I want to be the river or do I want to be the ice? / They are both water
The land speaks / Indignant stones: "Who put me here?" / "We are NOT a fence!"
Leaping lightly from rock to rock / Are we teasing the immobile stones? / Or giving joy in gratitude?
"Fellow Hermits..."
A man who thirsts for sadness, quenched by joy.
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