'All they who thoughtless are, nor heed,
What timeDeath's messengers appear,
Must long the pangs of suffering feel
In some base body habiting.
But all those good and holy men,
What time they see Death's messengers,
Behave not thoughtless, but give heed
To what the Noble Doctrine says;
And in attachment frighted see
Of birth and death the fertile source,
And from attachment free themselves,
Thus birth and death extinguishing.
Secure and happy ones are they,
Released from all this fleeting show;
Exempted from all sin and fear,
All misery have they overcome.'
Anguttara-Nkaya, iii.35

Thy breathing is about to cease. Thy guru hath set thee face to face before with the Clear Light; and now thou art about to experience it in its Reality... wherein all things are like the void and cloudless sky, and the naked, spotless intellect is like unto a transparent vacuum without circumference or centre

The flying feeling of crashing into bits
It's bitter sweet
It's strange
Not to explain
I see it
In the spectrum
Between the light
Of truth at the bottom of my heart
And the deepest dark
Of the sickening sorrow
Instilling life beyond
Reason
And the clouds
Are so ******* beautiful

i'd be lying if i said
you make me speechless
the truth is you make my
tongue so weak it forgets
what language to speak in

The mess we make- humans,
stumbling, killing, creating.
Writhing fear and beauty.

Humans: laughing and crying,
living and dying, shouting and singing
with loud voices up to the heavens.

On this blue orb, creating wonderful, dreadful chaos.

Beautiful Sun, who shines valiantly throughout the day,
the lonely moon glows feebly, merely a shadow of your glory.
Life-giving splendor, bringing color into the world
and pulling it from the sky as you lay to rest in the evening;
why must you be so cruel?

More often than not it was you, lovely star, who was present in my darkest moments.
Your light shined down, making a mockery of my suffering.
For all your warmth you are cold and uncaring,
indifferent to my tears that you have witnessed.

Although the moon possesses only a shred of your magnificence,
it is a much kinder companion, smiling gently through the darkness.
By the time Night paints the sky with broad strokes of deep purple
my troubles have slunk away into the shadow.

Your rising is a symbol of hope and new beginnings to most,
but in my eyes your rosy fingers promise another painful day.
I do wish your dazzling company brought reassurance!
Even so, I find myself relieved as you fade away in
soft oranges and blues,
chased away by the comfort of darkness.