On my hand
the beads of rosary walks to the end
but I to live of remembrance
the time is the being of unseen goner
none can clutch
but running after walking
Nomad of unending
In this blooming chest
Nothing to be hoarded
But giving away the fragrance with ambrosia
In the sense of delighted
Hoisted I am
as the being of desire
all in bleak feet
fathom in retreat
O’ nothing I capture still
Nothingness as grope in dark
-11/03/18
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