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An evocative poem, by Deeya, exclusively for Different Truths.
Ice melts, the ductile ice
beaten, with sharp edges
and insomnia
The water irresistibly flows
along its corners-
gathering weather-beaten words from the sun
I dare not touch it-
but rebuke,
its persistence bears testimonies
to generations down
The monk poses himself carefully,
drawing the sweetness alien fom fog
fog that dreams from stalactites of pain
OM MANE PA ME HUM
echoes in the blue dome of air
milky valleys peep through the misty
eyes of nature
the dawn of consciousness alights
And I keep my toes curled up
in soft woollen mittens by the fireside.
Photo from the Internet
