One piece looks like a branch or else a river set stark against a rock or hard grey sky, Or something cold that seems to be a temple. An ancient monk sits calmly by the door, His saffron robe like dancing sunlit water. He mocks your consternation with his eyes. Before you even entered you already were confused, but now with all these tiny lacquered pieces You have to settle down and concentrate. Next time you’ll be more careful. That’s the secret. When you think you understand, begin again.
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