Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Prayer wheel

I thought, now they may ask
About the virgin Mary

Blood stained sheets and a collection of
Silver linen tissues, the prayer wheel
Only prays as far as we turn it

All monks red
Sincerity, a breeze, it vanished
When you opened the box

At the bottom of the hill sleeps a forest
It is filled with breeding birds
While you and I spill blood and burst

I keep wondering, what is the matter?
Was I in it? Was I part? Illusions and dreams

A red flag indicates war, my rooms are too full
The wheel turns, again I cannot stop it

But then, name one who really can