Meditations on 44: Send the Rose to You                                                             for Elisa Under heaven, wind: coming to meet— My cavern is open, my vision is clear, to see the world of real things— knowing nothing, aware of everything. Sing, O heavens, the Lord has done it and praise God's name forever, sung praises unto thee, O Light— I am the first, and I am the last. Those in harmony with God are at ease, rejoicing in the way things are— mind of the sage is free from desire knowing truly he has the universe. Heaven seems like a painted scroll— still your mind before that splendour, start infinity again, never stop loving you: After that, silence, silence. In the silence many feathers— How beautiful it is to be unbroken. Diamond nights above the ancient town, air filled with the perfume of promise. Nimble thought can jump both sea and land— Once more, as always when the dance is high, run in and out of the house of dream, passing a thing out of the dream? The storm has hands and wings of a child, handle it like a baby wild cherry tree— with marks that will not wear away, upward with Joy, breathe so sky so. Have you here? Have we where? morning there and evening here— new morning sun shone like a pink rose, past, present, future— now here, now gone... Now I lay me down to dream of Spring— Sprout after sprout, the lotus will bloom, bright peonies scattered in between and send the Rose to you.           Peter Y. Chou           Mountain View, 4-4-2021