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Postby Kunga Lhadzom » Tue Jan 29, 2013 12:56 am

the rocks that rumble...silently are mine.....
earth sounds i hear...beat rolls across my room....
i scratch the beat...that's dead created time...
and weave into this solid mass...time loom...
rock is the photograph of times ruin...
continuation...clings like a disease....
and yet the living sleep inside a tomb...
entertaining themselves with memories...
winding antique clocks under christmas trees...
ignornant of flawless and timeless days...
writing diaries and painting the seas...
chiseling emotions from time stained clays...
and i pity us...if we too follow...
these blind hypocrites...
in time they wallow.....


( i wrote this when i was 16 years old)
"Your true nature is something never lost to you even in moments of delusion, nor is it gained at the moment of Enlightenment. It is the Nature of the Bhutatathata. In it is neither delusion nor right understanding." [Huang Po]
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