~~FlowingOm~~

I am not
Dalai lama

I am
Buddha
With a lampshade on my head

I cannot
give to you
My emptiness
Until I dance it into my joy

Then I will hold you


The lampshade
Is
And grows dusty


So I try


Moving in stillness
From my core

Then I sneeze

The lampshade is dusty
I fall over

When I rise
The sun shines into my eyes

The lamp shade has fallen into the soil
My forest of ghosts

I can breathe now
So I give you my breathe

It is not mine to hold

Though I have no arms
I am determined
To reach out

to hand you

My shadows
My heart
My blindness
My sight

Are they mine to give?

Can I forgive my falling
When in a moment of fear
I reach for the lampshade?


Will you hold me then?