Reading the master’s commentary strikes fear
I might not pass the koan
were it presented again,
so I look up from the text.
Scenery passes quickly
outside the window,
gathered collections and discarded remnants.
The train passes the same sights,
running on tracks
just twenty feet to the north
of the morning’s run —
only the light is different.
bussokuseki 
a personal reflection…it seems that the koan life has presented to me is somehow entangled with a train that passes in the night.
Where does it go?
Into night’s silence