teeter

i spoke to my yin yesterday about something i wrote, and in her beautiful, gentle way she inquired (approximately) into the state of my mental (well) being. my response was a sincere, albeit hare-brained explanation regarding pronunciation, translation, and nuance. but this is beside the point.

the point is that the words i threw away in the afternoon were recycled into the poem i birthed that evening. i sent the below to her with the following instructions: "start reading at the top of the circle and continue clockwise until the onset of samadhi."