"Praise His Lordship", they chant, disregarding the creator,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
If father hadn't mastered the ten chariots of desire
Would son have emerged at all?
"Even steven", they mock, and denigrate one another,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Searching, and feeling, mounted in reverse direction
Horse-dung's all that's begotten!
They look for the point, they search for meaning,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Mind entrapped, arrogant and blind
Who's doing the looking and what's he feeling?
They castigate the supposedly greedy, so smug and gay
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Oh, how insubstantial the despair
Of those who rise to great depths!
They suffer and pine for what's no more,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Sad indeed is the care-freedom
Of the life that is entirely deprived!
They dig up a mountain of earth to find a mole beneath,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
For sure, the rat who dug deep
Emerged from the molehill of earthly attachment!
They know not the one behind the pulse on their wrist,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Amidst signs of silent homage everywhere,
The victorious bird soars clear of the clockwork of flesh!
They throw stones at the frog in the well,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
The sad sage who leapt, sang, and then suffered torture
Now sits drenched in the very heart of heaven!
They run after happiness, they run after pleasure,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
For sure the curse of eternal grief
Is the cup bearing the nectar of bliss.
"No elephants here", they say, scoffing at the silent sentinel,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
When rocks are eaten, won't you need
To put up signs prohibiting such behavior?
"Blood's thicker than water", they say, sanctimonious in every way,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
When 'tis blood that congeals so shamelessly
Praise be, that water's the thinner!
Deprived of meat, the dejected lover asks for gravy,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
'Tis the sad heart's leap in imagination
That begins the spirit's voyage from the shores of flesh.
They pine for what was and wasn't, craving away
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
The destruction of being is the shattering of illusion
An eternity of birth and suffering brings the crown of immortality.
2 comments:
Super color scheme, I like it! Good job. Go on.
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They know not the one behind the pulse on their wrist,
Rama looks, wistful and forlorn.
Amidst signs of silent homage everywhere,
The victorious bird soars clear of the clockwork of flesh!
thanks Rama
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