Poetry Forum
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2/12/2020 11:05:03 AM
Alison Hodges Posts: 6
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The Search This is what I was born to Dancing on a whim, Foraging in the earth, Tied not by father’s science or mother’s nurture Bound not by head or by heart, free from all constraints An earthy fullness, lightened by the earthworm’s macerations The essence that words cannot hold for more than a moment That which flickers between the edges and won’t be named This is where I live This is where my soul is nourished and my voice is found Between the quavering Intermingling with the stars and sky The mundaneand the holy A place that man cannot know Friends canonly sense That is where I abide Its essencefeeds me If I name it – It vanishes I simply breathe it in and release its passion with eachbreath Stirring the spirits of those around me who feel its whisperupon their neck Ah!
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2/13/2020 10:39:27 AM
Jack Webster Posts: 255
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Ananda, now, all searching done, has only reached the beginning, yet still a self that finds or fails leaves all the cycles spinning.
A heap of snow beneath the sky is still a gathered heap, even if the sky’s not named with ordinary speech.
Triumphant self, still yet to melt and vanish on the wind. No victor left to find or fail; Into with the sky reblend.
Ananda, now, all searching done, anatta, anatta, anatta.
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2/13/2020 9:48:38 PM
Alison Hodges Posts: 6
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I'm going back to have another go at it …. at least I'm at the starting line and not 6 yards behind it!
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