Red leaves brew wine with whispered words.
One line of poetry trades for a dream.
In this mortal world, so many yearn for one another, yet never stay together.
They let the years slip by, before a green lamp and the Buddha.
There they linger, waiting in vain.
Human or otherwise, it makes no difference.
Six realms of reincarnation, six kinds of helplessness.
Only when all is done do we understand.
It was nothing but an illusory tribulation, nothing but the world's changes over time.
And nothing but
one misstep after another,
in exchange for a lifetime of loneliness, again and again.
Theme:
A very gentle article, very good.