Beyond the gaze of the nearest shore, the infinite expanse of sea.
Beyond the gaze of the farthest shore, endless water.
An eye fails to exert its reach.
A raft descends before it can translate.
Waves break without a shore.

There lies a lotus flower, halfway between the everlasting.
No creature dares to approach it.
No creature can find it.
Emptiness below and emptiness above,
and siphoned through its root: Blood.

The root extends to the ground.
The root extends to the surface.
Clear is the water on which it rests.
Dark is the water on which that water rests.
The bowl is parted.

The student asked,
“The lotus drinks and drinks,
the lotus grasps and grasps,
from hell does it drink, and for heaven does it grasp?”
The master replied,
“From the shore it does drink,
for the shore it does grasp.”