Sixty-Seven

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i will always hear beautiful flutes playing[
pure sugar air floating from between the
finely tuned gaps, to hum away the heartbeats
of my life ]here

i find dharma and shala, spiritual calling and a
pilgrimage place to rest my heart.

invisible jewels snuggle in moist lotus flowers,
brilliantly pink as smiling lips and sleeping petals
waving in the wind,

prayer flags and warm, thick noodles
fill the humblest of bellies and lungs,
lulled to a calm awakening by
om and ringing, singing bowls
shouting metallic cries of
freedom and wisdom
unto the ever open ever loving
sky