Tara

Sketch a mural, my love: depict maya; for something grips
Reality; and I trek illusion: enlove and torn. Such brush and
Paint and stick and stone and love and shame and brick and
Bone. How perfect has fallen, and hurt has risen. The

Collage speaks of love, a foreign tale—and something one
Sided; and still, the particles; and still, a poem. Chisel a
Portrait; and speak the river; for duhkha lingers; and sorrow
Wails. Such fabulous artwork: the rites of tears; and we

Perish softly, soaring clouds; and carve a legend: a beaut and
Queen; and grip the sky: the song of wings. I love you far—
A fraught ideal; and such graffiti—floods the mind; and
Shuunyata—a sun to fall; and dakini—a goddess call; and
There you are: a flame and scar; and there you are: a wound
And star; and there you are: a myth afar.