Tears of Shiva shed into rivers. Cherry blossoms fell. The goddess of the confluence admired them for a time
before she released them. The tears scoured suffering. The petals added beauty. The river flows on.
I watch where streams of consciousness flow into one another and write what I see.
Friday, January 2, 2009
His Compassionate Eyes
Searching Into the four directions Here is where You wait for me Endless and unwavering
Prayers carried on the breeze
One long rope
Snakes smoothly up and caresses Boudha’s cheek I see the sheet slip from your shoulder Omnipresent one Soon, I will return to you My love Your eyes beckon me Beyond time and matter
No veil can part what is
(This is a picture of Swyambu, but the poem was written at Boudanath stupa in Kathmandu, Nepal.)
Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun! O I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o' life shall run. - Robert Burns