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Monday, January 18, 2016

A Lotus


Putrid is the smell
where I was born
Filthy is the pond
Where I took the first sip.

Where cows defecated
Buffalo played and frogs frolicked
Beasts used it as a playground
Humans use as a dumping hole.

From where the grass
Looked greener outside.
A home that looked
Dark and murky.

Then I saw the light
from a blazing sun
cutting through layers of filth
it reached my innards.

I opened my eyes
looked for nectar in the crud
little by little
I drank the wine.

Little by little
I blossomed and got stronger
to raise my head above the grime
until blue sky and clean breath.

Now all I see is love
of shining treasures
beauty beyond 
occasionally the filth I left behind.

Fear of death

Some suggest that all suffering results from this underlying fear, reaction to even a stubbed toe is manifestation of fear of death albeit...