A poem by Shantamo
what is our life more
than the sound of a windgong
as it’s moved by the breeze?
the silence is as exquisite
as the new melody
when the wind blows again
there is something
beyond life and death
and it is here now
love is one way to call it
the bush of grass
next to my cabin door
its total intensity –
Poem and photos by Shantamo
Comments are closed.