The Departure

Oh! Son of a noble family,
since time immemorial, you were free and immaculate,
where the primordial wisdom awaited awakening;
bounded by our defilement,
you wandered in samsara for our sake,
but you were not lost...
Now that the vision of the glorious copper colored mountain dawns on you,
go forth and merge into its splendor.

Like Milerapa, frail and weak,
you suffered immeasurable pains,
but even in pain, you always found strength to meditate
and prayed for the benefit of all beings.
And in suffering, you purified all your defilement.
Now as you approach the glorious copper colored mountain,
let the compassionate rays of Padmasambhava
soak you in eternal bliss.

Go there, do not hold back.
This world will always be in pain
and each to our own,
we must find our own way home.

Do not let our tears distract your mindfulness
as we are still unrealized beings,
chained by our karma to the five poisons.

In your life, you always comforted us with wisdom and compassion,
now that you dwell in the glorious copper colored mountain,
shower upon us, the helpless sentient beings,
your wisdom, kindness and compassion
and deliver us from the endless ocean of Samsara.

Life on the edge of a shoe

Are you Walter? he asked, puffing on a dark cigarette, with his left eye closed, smoke rising towards his right eye.

Who’s Walter? I asked.

A short woman in pink with pink bag clutched to her chest looked at me, then to the man with a dark cigarette and to her bag.

Are you Walter? he repeated. I pretended not to hear him and watched a group of policemen on the other side of the street looking at a girl with short skirts and ample bosom. He mumbled something to himself and laughed, the laughter disappeared into a crowd dancing to a tiny cd player and the music from the cd player was lost into the sound of traffic. The traffic was a mess.

Everyone was no one or pretending to be someone…, observed the man with the brown cigarette.

A cat without tail rubbed against a lamp post and looked up measuring the length of the post. Just then, a policeman kicked the cat into the oncoming traffic with his steel toe boot. An old BMW ran over the cat.

This is a hollow life, the man with the cigarette said. I pretended not to hear, but wanted to ask him who the hell was Walter. I did not.

tears

Mounted on the wall,
a picture,
stared across the floor,
soaked in the afternoon sun -
dry and hot.
The sun rays, tears...
hurt the eyes...blind.