So I went out in the rain
To find this red moon
I didn’t see it but I’d be lying if I didn’t say
I danced a little
I found my way back to bed
And thanked my lucky stars
For this beautiful life.
I don’t know the ways to express
this feeling of being left or being gone
and how it mixes with this feeling of being right or being present
Its all mixed up, I’m all mixed up
All I can say is that
I know it’s done.
I rarely do.
I leave too early
I stay too late.
I staccato through sentences
I stammer, I ramble.
And the leaving is always the hardest.
Fall fast approaches
“We do not have to be ashamed of what we are. As sentient beings we have wonderful backgrounds. These backgrounds may not be particularly enlightened or peaceful or intelligent. Nevertheless, we have soil good enough to cultivate; we can plant anything in it.”
― Chögyam Trungpa, Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism
Let’s see here
There is a certain something, Isn’t there?
Before I have even started to look, I’d found that sound in the cicada songs
and maybe in the sound of the thunder.
Sure, I was alone and it was night but now, I question that.
It always feels like, seems like, looks like light.
When the guru passed did we know? Did we get the message?
This is going to be his last word but what is it that we all hear, here?
Chogyam, dear rinpoche, what did you say? “Pass me another gin”?
it seems to elude me today.