A Story from Jail #2

There is one story that visits me very often in this cell.
Atop Wudan in the year 109, Master Po took me to the cliff’s edge.
“The first lesson in Zen is about mortality,” he said.
“When you reach my level of power, you know exactly when you will die.”
He produced a handful of pink apple blossoms from his robe and threw them into the wind - they floated upon the breeze, scattering into the valley two miles below.
“Retrieve every last blossom.
And when you have picked up the very last one, you will know that I have passed to the next life.”
I bowed and shed a tear.
Then began my walk down the mountain.
I found the first blossom two weeks later.
Laying in a rock pool, bright pink contrasting violet blue.