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To My Father, to the Vajra Sangha
The body is young, but moss grows all around.
The inside has become brittle and open to fire.
The arms look full, but the milk has gone.
The veins are thick, full of rivers of doubt.
Fear holds the back.
The legs are quick, full of intent and desire,
But are heavy with the long week's work.
The feet are wide and strong.
The arches tall, the toes firm,
But are lost in the fog of doubt.
Let us join in the mind of the guru.
Let us fill our lungs with songs of devotion
And rid the dragon of victory.
Let us eat the sun of discipline
And drink the dharma of generosity.
All I wish is to see you smile.
All I want is to share a meal of butter and highland meat.
Let us rejoice in the vision of Shambhala.
Let us rejoice for you who are craziness itself.
When I walk, I think only of you.
When I sleep, I only become sad because you are ther.
Let me not fail you.
Let me be of you.
Let us enjoy
In the mountain of Magyel Pomra
The feast of the Great Eastern Sun.
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M. Granger's original poetry, stories and commentaries are Copyright ©
2002 - 2011 by Ivan M. Granger.
All other material is copyrighted by the respective authors, translators and/or