Of The Final Sum

Wind Horse fly's. He prays and waits his mission, those will ride upon his back...silver bells bridled passions champing, but the children are not here yet to be taken... He has come to colored flags of prayer, hitch'd to the wind...it is Wind Horse carries all those ones to heaven.

In this way, unto the heaven's means combine, prayer wheels spin, flags shriven by a paring wind scatt'ring...holy words to hear must go...unto that listening.

Lungta, soul ascending, steed of prayer, unto that merciful compassion...they that gather all away from harm at the summation.Till be done, that thing, the gath'ring of the everlasting kind.

Namaste.


Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico