Bodhi

There was a special moment,
All doors were open.

No leaves, no branches,
The garden of annihilation had appeared.

Birds of places were silent,
This silent, that silent,
The silence itself was utterance.

What was that area?
Seems a ewe and a wolf,
Standing side by side.*
The shape of the sound, pale
The voice of the shape, weak
Was the curtain folded?

I was gone, he was gone,
We had lost us.
The beauty was alone.
Every river had become a sea,
Every being had become a Buddha.