Library

The only relic left by my father and mother to me is September. My mother said that I was born one day earlier than September, and he was my brother. My brother should protect his sister, and we will depend on each other in the future. But, I lost September. I recite Zen slips, memorize Buddhist scriptures, turn over scriptures, recite pagodas, and count Buddhist beads, but there is always a name that keeps popping up in my mind. The name of September often appears in my slips of the tongue when I chant sutras, and in my Zen dreams when I meditate. I have fully understood thousands of Buddhist principles and penetrated thousands of Zen techniques, but I have never been able to penetrate or comprehend them for nine months. When you are at the end of the road, you can see the way you came, but you can't see the way back. If you let go, you will become a pagoda. From now on, there will be no world without you.

When ancient myths are turned into reality by the future, when all funny fantasies are taken seriously by the future, every civilization becomes a simple poem.