For many years he savored life at Eiheiji Monastery—
when he needed to get up
he got up,
when he had to sit
he sat,
nothing special;
at times the unusual people from the city
would visit, watching from the upper walkway
When fifty-five he moved to San Francisco,
four am each morning
practicing solo, in silence
amid the crisp space at 1881 Bush St.
One by one the curious joined him,
first a few, soon cascading into hundreds—
no Tweets, no data,
just ear whispered
Years later surprise return visit
to Eiheiji Monastery
himself now part of those visiting from the city;
witnessing panorama of monks walking into the hall,
opening gong, bells, reciting the sutra,
nothing special,
yet such a deep feeling, tears flowing,
watching from the upper walkway.
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