on the straw huts
of the soul…
the sky of silence
torn by the colors of noise!
or silent epitaphs,
that only whales understand,
or perhaps elephants…
written on the inside of the turtle’s shell.
spoke into being…
or being adorned,
with the trinkets of ownership…
do we choose?
what is language then?
should we ask the trees?
perhaps the mountains will tell.
the rivers only laugh!
does it have a smell?
a taste? a touch?
does it recognize identity?
spoke into being…
are we then spoke into death?
is the veil between paper thin?
is there a veil?
perhaps the only difference
between darkness and light
is vantage point…
where we stand in the shadows!
dogs bark, cats meow…
I Am!

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All nectar-like
And words
Move in their
Continuous processes.
Words
All radiant
All purifier
And words
Glow in their
Life energy.

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Breathing
No end
As long as
In body
Soul is

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Not even Springtime
Can,
The love that long
Embraced you,
Still cuts thru me
Like a panther’s
Fang,
Like no other
Pain will,
Or ever can.

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