Behold, am I now hollow? Awaken! Come...while I am good for nothing! you beggar's, set your self aside, your baggage down...and come, as alight you are.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: Devout Tibetan Buddhist pilgrims, travelling to the Holy mountain, in winter.
"Śūnyatā" (Sanskrit) is usually translated as "devoidness," "emptiness," "hollow, hollowness," "voidness." It is the noun form of the adjective śūnya or śhūnya, plus -tā: Source: Wikipedia
The Wind Horse fly's on the wind of ages, message of the gods, cho zen...words torn from an ancient tongue, scattered on a breathing sky.
The horse thunders, over high mountains, fluttering toward the heavenly ones, prayer's borne on the bones of the Wind Horse, sole free with its flags snapping!
All wealth of goodness be, the gratitude of flying on serenity, aback ...the Wind Horse.
With love and best wishes...Karme Dendrub Senji
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags, blowing prayers into the wind, google pic
There are those that shred the discovery of 'nothing'. It is whole cloth, not to be taken down and dashed on the stones of understanding. The richness of it, is that, 'nothing' is the ride...the journey on, the seeker seeks to find, and is a way point only, leaving nothing of itself...behind.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: Tibetan Buddhist monks, google pic
In a land of lies, is it a wonder, only silence may be said, to hold...some certain truth?
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
The greenest of the graveyard's grass, is 'envy green', when nothing's left, but pushing in the ground...to rest.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
When we are governed by nothing, save observation, we might move better than, we had control of all...save wind, the river and the soul, in their infinite knowing.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
We think better, when we stop thinking. We err less, when we judge nothing. Words come, when they're not asked. When we're not there...the world goes on.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
