Poetry — 25 June 2014

A poem by Shantamo

 

what is our life more

than the sound of a windgong

as it’s moved by the breeze?

 

chimes

 

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

 

hut

 

the bush of grass

next to my cabin door

its total intensity –

 

Poem and photos by Shantamo

Share