Samsara
1 min readFeb 4, 2018
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. The Buddha
Shredded, ragged,
Tibetan prayer flags
strung across my porch,
flap and fade like
existence itself
ghosting away,
once new, now old,
then new again.
Frayed remnants
blow into nothing,
becoming ever less
like themselves.
Only what they are.
Nearly transparent,
edges tattered,
fluttering in
invisible wind,
disappear more
every day,
dwindling forms
left behind to be
replaced in spring.
Death and rebirth.
Inescapable world
without end.
Exactly as must be.
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Poverty lifts you up to the bottom…
