Forest Dhamma…

Even the fallen leaves
Decaying in heaps
Or the dried up springs
With their bottoms seen
The carcasses rotting
Not bothered how it seems
They were all pretty in the forest
When I was walking within.

When the rain came
It made muddy streams
There were puddles and puddles
Overflowing with ooze
I sloshed… I slashed…
Making a mess of myself
Even shook the stern ferns
With their thorny twigs.

I didn’t mind the rain
How it shouted around me
Didn’t mind the leeches
Crawling over my feet
Even forgave the wind
For more than tickling me
I didn’t feel the stones
Jabbing under my feet.

The forest was throbbing
A silent tune
It was Dhamma sung
In its nomadic beat
The good.. the bad…
All  a mixture of those
It sung both rhythms
With no complains at all.

 

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