流
生命，河流，日夜不停地流淌，流向海，奔向遠方，遼闊、蒼茫，融入宇宙天地，無垠無限。如此流動的生命是理想的，任湍流再遠亦不離本源，流域範圍愈寬廣，涵蓋的本質愈精髓，沒有浪費一滴水，每一瞬間的流動，饒富存在意義。流淌著，流淌著，不停歇的水啊，看似順流而下其實逆流回溯，最美風景，莫過如此。這樣的水，心神嚮往，可以親近，甚至浸染，最後交融。水，何曾一瓢汲取，又何曾捨離而去？原來的，本來的，若能有此了悟，我就是水。
我就是水，則手中一點污穢，何必在意？流失，何須惋惜？若我是水，川流吧！莫滯留，滯留則生命乾涸。不，把「若」去掉，存在是真實沒有假設疑問的！「若」去掉，我本是水。本來水，還去雲。暫作雲，還是水。雲要飄零，水要流淌，動是生命的展現。啟身雲遊去吧！去了，明白天寬地廣。去，才能返，返了，方知本來無一物的本來。
流，太遠了，回頭看看，遠處峰巔，飄雪季節。飄零啊，飄零啊，踏雪尋足跡。遙遠的過去，遙遠的未來，都重疊在發現足跡的當下，當下不斷起滅，不斷流淌，匯流成河了。美妙，生命啊，亙古如新！流淌一次，了悟一回，時間沒有過去、現在、未來，三者是一體的，未來即過去，過去即未來，過去與未來都在，在這不斷起滅的當下中，每個瞬間構成永恆，每個瞬間盡在永恆之中。
水啊，川流吧！流過彎彎的轉折，流過直直的橋墩，無處不流淌著存在，每個存在的空間架構了時間，於是流淌著歲月。水啊，川流吧！流過歡笑的臉龐，流過悲傷的眸子，流過一個低窪再流過一個低窪，流過一個高岡再流過一個高岡，回歸遼闊蒼茫的大海，融入宇宙天地，無垠無限。
Flow
— First written in 2017; translated into English in 2026 —
Life is a river. Day and night it flows without ceasing, toward the sea, toward the far horizon—vast, boundless, dissolving into heaven and earth, into the infinite. Such a life of flowing is the life one longs for. However far the current travels, it never leaves its source. The wider the basin, the deeper the essence it holds. Not a drop is wasted; every moment of movement carries the full weight of existence.
Flowing, flowing—water that never rests. It seems to move downstream, yet in truth it is always returning to what it came from. No sight is more beautiful than this. This is the water the heart moves toward: to draw near, to be touched by it, to enter it, and finally to become one with it. Has water ever truly been taken by the ladle? Has it ever truly gone away? What was original remains original. To awaken to this is to know: I am the water.
If I am the water, why trouble over a speck of impurity? Why grieve what flows on? If I am water—then flow. Do not linger; still water dries. No. Remove the if. Existence needs no condition. Remove the if, and I am water by nature. Water by nature, returning to cloud. A while as cloud—and still water. Cloud must drift; water must flow. Movement is the expression of life. Go then, wander like a cloud. Go, and discover how wide heaven and earth are. Only by going can one return; only after returning does one finally know what was original all along.
The flow has gone far. Looking back: distant peaks, a season of snow. Drifting, drifting—walking through snow, searching for footprints. In the moment a footprint is found, the distant past and the distant future fold into each other. The present rises and fades, rises and fades again, flowing onward until it gathers into a river. How wonderful—life, ancient and forever new. Each flowing brings its own awakening. Time holds no past, present, or future; the three are one. The future is the past; the past is the future. Both are here, within the present that ceaselessly appears and ceaselessly fades. Every moment makes eternity; every moment lives inside eternity.
Water—flow on. Through winding turns and past the straight pillars of bridges—everywhere, existence flows. Each vessel of space gives shape to time, and the years themselves move like water. Flow past faces bright with laughter, past eyes heavy with sorrow, through hollow after hollow, over ridge after ridge—until at last returning to the vast and boundless sea, dissolving once more into heaven and earth, into the infinite.
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