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deci belle

Root Ball

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ROOT BALL

 

Without any style, but lots of pluck

Seize the dead root— just call it luck.

Filling ground zero is a nine foot hall—So

Taking what's level you stand on it all

Climbing past this, the flowers fall.

 

High and dry, dead and taut

Who can see what's finely wrought.

Lumpy and rough, thick and stark

No layers left, no piece of bark

Bleakly gnarled, vaguely dark.

 

Even and level, there's no way in

The uncarved block is square and thin.

Stand it on end— and no longer pretend

Trust your balance there's nothing to mend

The pedestal of dragons; beyond our ken.

 

In the empty room held in space

Holding the root and recalling the taste

Audaciously climbing right into your arms

The living thing suits you without any harm

Vitality hails you, shamelessly charmed.

Edited by deci belle

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Something taken from the tenth oxen of Kakuan:

 

10 In the world.

 

Barefoot and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the world.

 

My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever blissful.

 

I use no magic to extend my life;

 

Now, before me, the dead trees become alive.

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Something taken from the tenth oxen of Kakuan:

 

10 In the world.

 

Barefoot and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the world.

 

My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever blissful.

 

I use no magic to extend my life;

 

Now, before me, the dead trees become alive.

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