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Zen Master Hsu Yun
RETURNING TO MOUNT GU AFTER FORTY YEARS' ABSENCE TO ASSIST
IN THE FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS FOR XIANGLIAN GONG
This used to be my mountain home.
Now the place and I are strangers.
My hair, all streaked with grey;
The courtyard garden, dry and filled with stunted weeds.
Xianglian Gong and I were old friends,
But we don't recognize each other.
Maybe I retreated too far.
The past keeps rushing up to me.
Confused, I ask myself, "What do I do next?"
I look around, bewildered by so much neglect.
Only then do I notice that tears are running down my cheeks.