Field of Rice

All is connected. Although individual in their own right, the "elements" are only individual via means of mind constraints. In other words, although something is labelled as such, there is more purpose and function beyond its mere title.

Upon passing this random field of rice (among many in Anjo), the sky reflected so beautifully, and what could be seen was an unspoken but visible dialogue between the water, earth, and sky. One can only be with the other.

Despite being simply such, they are so deeply ingrained with each other that they simply cannot be separated. This relationship obviously bares many a name but its true meaning is never shackled by them. Even if all verbal languages are understoood, they cannot all encapsulate this truth.

This field bares the fruit to which I will receive, and in turn, I will give all things that I am to express until the end. Upon others and to all, we are connected.