Prayer Bells Poem by Mark Heathcote

It's a topsy-turvy-world, but don't be fooled or confused
everything will be-unfurled and again suitably fused.

There will be prayer bells spun across the Himalayas
they shall pitch, fecund at some higher alertness:

You'll sense all living things have a tone of fulfilment
you'll pace in a labyrinth there find endless devilment.

That everything that's known still goes unrecognised
like reflective doubles, more in ways crystallised.