The Gong of Om
The gong of Om
Our gasp does not last,
for what’s past is past,
so best we don’t rue,
the vanishing dew.
We exhale a gale
on which others sail,
who we so ensoul,
thus blissful and whole.
Silence has a hum
of a divine drum,
as the pulse of life,
fills us with joy rife.
Dance’s enigmatic,
so why be static,
choosing to outpour
love through every pore.
21-May-2022
Notes: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Om
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