Chants from other side of the Moon #1

Hands are streams of
being, it’s in nature of
humans to nurture

And yet they fail, fail
more often than young
boys at markets of life trying
to seize a breath of dream
that must die, named Youth

They peak, peak as high as
last hope of autumn, a boundless
lark of white evaporating in dew
of mountain tops, death is beginning
of birth, only the form of exhausted
candle know truth, its horrifying, silent
figure lurks beneath the leafy cradle of
honesty

Man seeks, and therefore is man

Secret he must seek, for in secrets
is life’s dwelling

Secret is openness of being,
rarely hidden from those who
seek mastery, a crown of petals
ready to open if met with light
ready to touch it

Seek the secret of Self Man,
and Moon shall you become

 

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