We were living in the temple.
The ring within the bell
That would never be struck.
The rising of a thousand prayers
On their way to protect children,
Heal those with illnesses, quell the fears
That stalk the dark of forests,
Wished upon the stars and could
No longer kiss the lips of lovers
So far away the sea seemed small,
Tender as a kitten and pounding with life.
We were pounding with life,
Were living inside the temple,
Held aloft by incense smoke and chanting.
Om Mani Pad Me Hum, more times
Than the world had turned and we
Had been the ones who turned the world.
Look for us on mornings,
Our throats full of dawn liquor.
Look for us in the stillness
Of the afternoons, in the slow opening
And closing of a butterfly’s wings
Resting on a hyacinth or lilac.
Look for us in the last of evening,
Still within the temple waking
Lavenders and reds, crouching on the edge
Of moving storms, poised to become night,
To be the rain against your windows,
The wind within your body.
We dwell within the temple.
Do not be alarmed that we have
No corporal body. The light swings
Within us and at long last, at
Long, long last, the voice of the bell
Is ours and is yours as well.
Rise from your simple bed.
Bow to the breath that is your own
And we will bow to you. Bowing.