భాషందం, భువనందం, బ్రతుకందం

Monday, July 02, 2012

Rohtang


As we walk the pass of corpses
in search of worlds grand
The cold bites our bodies
and death lays its icy hand

As we relish the view
our throats are slit open
Rise from the dead we do
to quietly march on

Killing again, bearing again
the pass does not know
The spirit goes on
as bodies melt in snow

Stories have I heard
from innocent folklore
Of the world that lay beyond
where miracles are galore

Valleys full of golden geese
and cranes black and silvery
of Buddhas perfectly wise
Where our lord kisses our lady

Laughs begin in our gut
to shake the pillars of the sky
Envy, the gods know not
as they let our joys fly

All sense of me and mine
is lost in divine timeless bliss
But till then,
As we walk this pass of corpses
they seem but empty promises!

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