Dhamma Manda

Dried creek beds Longing for their tears Something amongst the fallen leaves of dust covered hopes and floors Traited trunks stand witness Still in their helplessness Showered in light and love The peddle-stood savior says it best When the gates open again If will not be told of now and then Silted soils will be quenched From the fallen drops of past mistakes Slid down the hopeful cheeks of a Nature of Mother’s men More at : http://brendenpettingill.com/index.php/2016/12/01/dhamma-manda/