The snow on Mt. Fuji glistens in the winter sunlight as I look out the train window. Somewhere a man yearns for a hot bowl of noodle soup to warm and nourish him. In another place, a baby is born and someone lays on their deathbed taking their last remaining breaths before leaving this world. What is up today will be down and what is down will be up. The great cycle of the Dao goes on and we are merely passengers with no say as to where we are to get off.
