I am the quiet
the end of your quiet day
I am the noisy
the end of your noisy day
I am the noisy
I am the quiet
The end of your day
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Tag: Dropping the Body
Amma
In morning
She rises
To the sound of water
In evening
Her repose
Is the clear light of day
(and
always always
the innumerable Hum:
of
I AM
flooding her brain)
One morning, though,
there will be no rising…
One morning, though,
No clear light of day.
One morning
One morning
Her children will instantly (somehow) know:
Ah, she has dropped the body.
Ah, the butterfly soul!
Oh dear sweet mother,
how long are your days with us?
Oh dear sweet Amma,
how long can your hands hold?
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