Poem · January 1, 2014
Opera
At times,when my mind is quiet,what arises is like an opera.Whereas,with a crowded mind,what comes is like a mob.
Yet, isn't it ourselveswho mess the stage?
But further,events that lifted meout of the crowdmay become just moments lost in time,much like tears in the rain.
music · spirituality · memory · impermanence