“We long for spiritual attainment, which is like the natural perfume of a flower, which makes itself known unobtrusively and quietly, pervading its surroundings, irrespective of whether people pay attention”. Lama Anagarika Govinda

The moon’s laughter breaks all bounds with time.

Oh! Oh! Pour the wine, the passion of a forever,

climbing, crawling, clambering vine.

I cherish the smell of the moon’s delight,

swiveling the nectar of the Earth’s ruby-red wine,

in the goblet of humanity’s decline.

Let us bow. Let us salute,

the last living link with the ancient world –

the sound of rust in autumn’s shrine.

The moon sprinkles the Earthlings’ eyes.

with the pollen of the wildflowers of a purple paradise.

It grows and blooms. Poetry flowers are so divine!