The bread sits still, unmoved and unmoving
on the counter in the corner yet thinks
not and not thinking it remains plain there.
Without thought the bread rests deep and silent
like the smile on a stone buddha and like
a stone buddha’s smile it feeds my hunger.
The bare thing is what it seems and in its
seeming abounds without belief or grief
but dwells in bliss a reverent matter.
The bare thing conceals more than it reveals
my longing for things pleasant but it does not
exhaust or extinguish my true craving
to quit all craving and accept what is.