love

Work love

Give me work till my days are done,
Give me life while there’s work to be won.
A purpose that burns, a spirit that strives,
To fill every breath with the spark that survives.
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Question

When a patient seeks a healer’s care,
With words, his pains he must lay bare.
For only then can wisdom see,
The path to mend, to set pain free.

A silent plea cannot reveal,
The wounds that time may yet not heal.
So, too, a student must express,
Their doubts, their fears, to find success.

For in the sharing, truth takes flight,
Guiding hearts from dark to light.

Flow

The Master moves without a plan,
No goal to seek, no guided hand.
He flows along, just like the tide,
Content to simply take the ride.

Yet nothing’s left undone, you see,
No hopes to chase, no “ought to be.”
No residue of past regret,
No future binds, no loss to fret.

The spirit’s lost, yet always near,
It’s found in moments soft and clear.
In depths, the surface fades away,
As flowers bloom and fruits decay.

He treasures both, in calm embrace,
At peace with time, in perfect grace.
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