Isolated from the tempestuous sights,
By the fluorescent green still lakes,
A pilgrim bows to mystical Kailash.
He came here for a once-in-a-lifetime sojourn,
To find the Flowers of Wisdom.
Trying to trace a sage that grows these sparse beauties,
Willing to share them with poor men
He looks in scary caverns, in every ashram,
In the wildest otherworldly fields.
He came from far and is unstoppable,
A rain of ash, a fall of rocks
Can't lessen his seek for a worthy
Master in flesh and blood.
This man is tired, haven't slept the nights,
His days turn dry and so does his feet and soul,
But that guide with golden keys
He still hasn't met.
Worn out, one lucky evening he lays down
Dissolving irreversibly into the Vacuum,
The Guru available at any time.
Now all the Flowers of Wisdom live
In his pure smile.
Topic(s) of this poem: buddha, flower, guru, transcendent, wisdom
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