Just eat now, and wash your
plate
Chop wood now, and chop wood after
A man who knows this, is his own
master
The musical clap, of the single
hand
The still flowing water, in a thoughtless
land
The formless Face, before its very
formation
The empty pot before, the final transformation
Dried up dung, and a searching
soul
Three pounds of flax, and a
begging bowl
Fleeting clouds, and mental states
Silence is yonder, the gateless
gate
So eat now, and wash your plate
And step beyond the gateless gate
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