Tuesday, February 9, 2021

The Om Poem

The last word remains

Let it be “om”

The “love” words don’t transition

And feelings die with the brain

Such a shame 

They cannot be carried over

So very strange

That what a person’s living for,

Be it wealth, passion, or fame

Ends up all the same in “om”

Like the orange sun sandwiched

Between two megalith structures

Squeezed below the horizon

For others more westerly to see

The glow is all one day if I follow

Imagine I am following it around

Or left behind in darkness

It would all come down to love

The feeling that warms our lives

“Om”-lessness would be nothing

If I cannot hold you in my arms

Like everything that temporarily stays

If I can’t find my way back “om”

It just wouldn’t be fair.


February 9, 2021

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