And a youth said, “Speak to us of Friendship.” 
      Your friend is your needs answered. 
      He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. 
      And he is your board and your fireside. 
      For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. 
      When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.” 
      And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; 
      For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. 
      When you part from your friend, you grieve not; 
      For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. 
      And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. 
      For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. 
      And let your best be for your friend. 
      If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. 
      For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? 
      Seek him always with hours to live. 
      For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. 
      And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. 
      For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.  

11

Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub;
It is on the hole in the center that the use of the cart hinges.

We make a vessel from a lump of clay;
It is the empty space within the vessel that makes it useful.

We make doors and windows for a room,
but it is these empty spaces that make the room livable.

Thus, while the tangible has advantages,
it is the intangible that makes it useful.

(translated by John C.H. Wu) 

This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence: 
This place made from our love for that emptiness!

 Yet somehow comes emptiness, 
this existence goes.

 Praise to that happening, over and over! 
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

 Then one swoop, one swing of the arm, 
that work is over.

 Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope, 
free of mountainous wanting.

 The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw 
blown off into emptiness.

 These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning: 
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

 Words and what they try to say swept 
out the window, down the slant of the roof.

(Source: josiahcoen)

You should “try” to read it if you have the time.  Thanks.

And the bed takes off
through the room window
into the night sky
where the small shuttle
transforms into white
with blinding lights
imploding like novas
from the holy exit

The door opens slowly
and the sweet dreamer
falls
       falls
              falls
swirling in green
with black phantasms
of the River Styx
six by six by nix
the ultimate number
fumbling over each other
and huddle in a bundle
of waves that crash and
pull him down oceanic sky
though he stays dry
for the water hungers
for his provision
the knapsack of tradition
to where his mind splits
from this cycle
with Death’s sickle
swinging from high above
splicing body from soul
while the sun rises
and blooms like a rose

The new day begins
with a vicarious life
watching a brother
endure the maze
inside a vast gym
and quarreling
with his best friend
his running partner
                               so it was told
and gold dulls into bronze
while his ship for his friend
drowns in sirens

His ears are waxless
some deceptive conspiracy
of tired fire
                   but brother trips
into the next day
and stumbles
                       accidentally
to make the ground rumble
and crawl the floor humbly
and it all hits bladed fans
when he goes to the store
with his fam and spots
the undead coming his way
to end the game
                           but it’s too late
as his chemistry prof stops
his tracks and talks about work
over acid and base titrations
and annihilation of mass
in a combustion reaction
while signs and numbers
fly and spin before his eyes

Then he finds himself
spending quality time
with his parents
who are actually divorced
yet freaked out by this course
of cognition that put him in
an awkward position
enjoying ice cream
with his siblings
outside a mall
the size of the US
and “us” become one
as the rest of them left
as many dividends
while he adds to a sum
of nothing
                  of loneliness
so he goes to pay his meal
and keeps his spoon to bend
throws it away in the wormhole
that forms into a trash can

and he hides under the table
where his family had come to be
and watches ghosts laugh
and spies the passing feet.

-wrecks e.

I had two really crazy dreeeeeeeeeeeeeams.