Buseoksa Moon South Korea

Enough meditation, three a.m. earbuds Dream # 9
reading Merton’s Seven Story Mountain in stillness,
the temple bell shakes the universe, calling monks
to save all beings in hell, a cock crows in darkness.
A half moon spins the stars in a black pool forming
on land in sea the spirit dance unfolding nonetheless.
Do not count the cost, no one, nothing is ever lost.

In fitful sleep I wake to the apple autumn morning
dressing herself in crimson, grey, brown and gold.
There’s a bus to nowhere, somewhere I think home.
I feel the half moon human mind moving to fullness
asking clearly, “Will you stay with the solemn monks
Or return to mad electric nights of paradise in Seoul?”
Sleep walking dreamer that I am, I hesitate, can’t wait

To go back to a circle of friends, lovers I know, my bed
a dream-pond of incarnadine leaves sinking to rest,
the bell is tolling, calling, shaking me awake, I think
but it’s just the glaring city moon tapping on a window.

 

 

Rayn Roberts 2019

 

Rayn Roberts 2019

 

Korean Buddhism
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SXf_V18wQUhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SXf_V18wQU

Buesok Temple
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWpX6Rf_JuY&spfreload=1

“Dream #9” is the song by John Lennon

 

BDDG_Buseok_oct20_06

Winter Moon

Blackness and silence, that is where she rises,
Sylvia, you knew the moon too well.
Well of illusion, misguided dreams; old virgin appearing in white
she is barren, dry, bald-
Stolen light is borrowed beauty.
How can she be Lake of the gods,
She’s a mirror, she confounds, bewilders, dazzles and deceives.

What is a lover to her but a fool– You know what is said,
the lover, the lunatic share one bed–
A memory of sunlight, a fantasy in the way of her bright emptiness,
that is what love is to an old, envious maid.
I’ll not look on her again easily,
how can I and not recall
up over the white shoulder of a windy hill in icy air

She unveiled her face to me– I, whom she’d driven to despair,
cried a name she would never hear.

 

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