Zen and the Art of Bombing the System

A bomb explodes without sound,
its message carried by smoke
into the bell tower of a forgotten church.
The system trembles,
but it’s already too late.
A Zen master sits,
legs crossed,
watching the ruins
as a smile spreads across their face.

“It was never real,”
they say to the ashes,
“and now neither are you.”
In the stillness of destruction,
clarity blooms,
the chaos a canvas
for the art of letting go.

Fragments of belief scatter,
like leaves caught in an autumn breeze,
and the air thickens with the scent
of liberation unbound.
Each sigh of the past dissolves,
melting into the ether,
where whispers of truth linger,
free from the weight of expectation.

The master observes the remnants,
each charred piece a lesson,
each crack in the earth a reminder
that nothing is permanent.
In this void,
the essence of existence dances,
untethered by the chains of the system.