Thursday, July 9, 2009

When Mountains are again Mountains, and Rivers again Rivers

The Truth at all levels,
Is suddenly much sought after,
As if it is a revelation.
A new phenomenon, just born.
A cry of pain, intense suffering,
Longing... Is that it?
A whistle - short and sweet,
From the trees... Is that it?
A shooting star,
In a glorious,
Moonlit night sky?
And so the phenomenon just born,
Already dies a sudden death.
A victim of,
An impossible illusion.

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