Monday, August 16, 2010

Morning Prayer

With joy, I move through the waking dream,
As the keys of logic rattle in my ears
I look for You, my Lama
I look for my Lover of Coral
And find that nothing is real. 

Why does suchness not stop when Angels leave?
Where does It come from when merit fields ripen?

Morning prayers.
Letters written on a stream
of deathless nectar.

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