The lord is comin’… the woman
her white hair stained with henna
eyes golden garlands, sleep, earth, Naropa…

Face to face
where clear light reigns, ceases breaths
ceases love, cools life, there’s death…in garlands of Naropa…

The lions are there
as minds undistracted follow the well
the veil, the sentient, symbol, path…Naropa…

The union pushes
not higher the bliss
her streets, her feathers, henna, leaves…Naropa…

Free of heavens
more than the gardens get dry
the sky becomes a blank blue rock, outside…Naropa…

Wipes away the serpent
gratified no guilt
no leaving, no coming, the doors which she passes
so freely
so there

Lucid at birth
neither dead nor alive
nor spoke of or heard of, the bird’s feathered prison… Naropa

Limitless sky
shapes of decline
or acension to higher perceptions of Truth… Naropa

The all-good Buddha
shelters the face, the fingers, the feet & the tongue of Naropa

Cools life once again
the plains are all seen
from the Eye, not the second, the fourth or the third, Naropa

The moon in your water
drops arrows of death
forever, thereafter, whynever, forget you, in sleep… Naropa

Copyright © 2008 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.