Shundo David Haye

Without tracks, 
No news.
The white clouds are rootless - 
What colour is the pure breeze?
Spreading the canopy of the sky, mindless,
Holding the carriage of the earth, powerful;
Illumining the profound source of a thousand ages, 
Making patterns for ten thousand forms.
Meetings for enlightenment in the atoms of all lands - in each place is Samantabhadra:
The door of the tower opens - everywhere is Maitreya.