Busy with nothing, growing old.
Within emptiness, weeping, laughing.
Intrinsically, there is no “I.”
Life and death, thus cast aside.
Posted by: amygdala | February 5, 2009
Master Sheng Yen’s death poem
Posted in Uncategorized
Busy with nothing, growing old.
Within emptiness, weeping, laughing.
Intrinsically, there is no “I.”
Life and death, thus cast aside.
Posted in Uncategorized
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