52 cards playing the tune
A old man, young once, strength of limb, glory, name reknown. A old woman, children all sorts and descriptions running in the sand eyes wide bright glowing.
The dance is come, the tune is sung, from young to old to young again and return. And over and over once more.
Always the same always the same. The regret, the fear, a child once young and bright, now old decrepit in form......all we bring is bound to come.
The greatest sorrow....this sight behold. What you seemingly create.....grows to deconstruct.
So I say change! change! from here to there karmic propensity seemingly laid in concrete. There to here....
NO possibility. NOne under the sun.
The monk sits emptiness surrounds
52 cards no longer playing the tune
Sadness the greatness of sadness, the greatest of sadness....all that grows complex is bound to deconstruct.
WE must escape, escape we must. escape we can escape we can, from there to here from here to there, a drug a scheme a lover a dream a exclusion a conclusion...
we return we return and return again
the monk sits emptiness plays the tune
52 cards they lie in the wind eyes wide open eyes glowing and bright
concrete cracked and on the ground it lies
from this so devised we rise
emptiness surrounds
A personal experience ....by the edge of the seas
widening expanse.
sitting it seems
Time lies tattered in teardrops upon the sun.
From whence lies the dawn in times deconstruct
52 cars they lie in the sun, sometimes sembelance they vie to be one
52 cards lying in the sun
who can claim them
I nary a one
A personal experience
may you have one....
