When I drive through hazy morning blackness I forget that wheels exist. Or limbs--I seem to sink into an abyss. A glad pit in suffocating black: each thought is a fiber that spreads and roots and deepens. I roll further and find that there is a brisk breeze. Feebleness. More thoughts arise that lead to strength when I realize that meditation dissociates from feeling and I grow and branch and then there it is: the sun has risen and cherry blossoms are abloom.