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Milarepa

A bodhi song by Milarepa

Here is the Bodhi-Place, quiet and peaceful.
The snow-mountain, the dwelling-place of deities,
stands high above;
Below, far from here in the village, my faithful patrons live;
Surrounding it are mountains nestling in white snow.

In the foreground stand the wish-granting trees;
In the valley lie vast meadows, blooming wild.
Around the pleasant, sweet-scented lotus, insects hum;
Along the banks of the stream
And in the middle of the lake,
Cranes bend their necks, enjoying the scene,
and are content.

On the branches of the trees, the wild birds sing;
When the wind blows gently, slowly dances the weeping willow;
In the treetops monkeys bound and leap for joy;
In the wild green pastures graze the scattered herds,
And merry shepherds, gay and free from worry,
Sing cheerful songs and play upon their reeds.
The people of the world, with burning desires and craving,
Distracted by affairs, become the slaves of the earth.

From the top of the Resplendent Gem Rock,
I, the yogi, see these things.
Observing them, I know that they are fleeting and transient;
Contemplating them, I realize that comforts and pleasure
Are merely mirages and water-reflections.

I see this life as a conjuration and a dream.
Great compassion rises in my heart
For those without a knowledge of this truth.
The food I eat is the Space-Void;
My meditation is Dhyana – beyond distraction.

Myriad visions and various feelings all appear before me -
Strange indeed are Samsaric phenomena!
Truly amazing are the dharmas in the Three Worlds,
Oh, what a wonder, what a marvel!
Void is their nature, yet everything is manifested.

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Days away

Floating in this moment.
My own weakness and strength.
The sun awaits me outside

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Nobody Knows

Nobody Knows
By Thomas Sterling Herington

Nobody knows where these feelings come from.
Has anyone seen where they go?
They appear as suddenly as rainstorms in April,
then fade away like fallen snow.

What dreams may come to me as nightmares,
or fantasies of tales untold.
My thoughts and feelings I dare not wear out there.
When unclothed and exposed they are not cold.

Blasting out like a trumpet upon the minarets
life repeatedly resounds its swirling song
If tone deaf and unable to read music sheets
how can you hope to follow along?

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Laughing at Demons

Laughing at Demons
By Jen Livingston

Laughter trickling
Then noticing
Crazy and tumbling
Roaring out demons
on invisible wings
Burning red eyes
Seeking the insides
Laughing at Demons
Dissolved on the tide
Nevermore to find
a place to hide.

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