You know my bip-bopping days are over I hung my boots up and then retired from the disco floor Now the centre of my so called being is The space between your bed and wardrobe with the louvre doors
I lean my head slowly to the side, reflect on the camellia on the moss
of the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling
the foliage, the forward rush of life is crystallised in a brilliant jewel
of a moment that knows neither plans nor future, human destiny is rescued
from the pale succession of days, glows with light at last and, surpassing
time, warms my tranquil heart.