The gift he bestowed. Unaware – so absorbed by the struggle. We walked the line for many years never breaking step but the day came when the path branched. He said stay organized and keep your integrity. Comet-like, I return. Offering my stories, colored by the years and buffered by wisdom, born of sadness and joy. We sit side-by-side sharing memories, telling stories, gazing at infinite shadows. Untold devotion.
Farewell to a Sung Mountain Traveler by Po Chu-I
No more climbing peaks for me, no more following streams, so who abides there, part of rock and stream, mist and cloud?
When you reach the sunlit south exposure of Sung, sing out these lines, chant them until it’s thirty-six peaks understand.