To dedicate my late Father.
Life is just like a guest house,
The drift of soul dwells...
Enters the gate of hatred & love.
But an illusive mind in the awkwardness
Unable to be fully aware...
The suffering...the happiness...
In the view...
We are momentary visitors,
Coming and going with the empty hand.
The wealth... the beauty...
Only feels the hypocritical world.
But true life,
'Never born and Never die'.
Kathup Tsering's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Life by Kathup Tsering )
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