Temples of Cambodia

Hidden in roots and lost in time
haunting flutes and cowbell chimes
blackstone sandstone crumbling structures
come together with reason and rhyme

Shadows can pinch

Shadows are painful
you can’t hold onto them
they dance around to torture
and remind you of all
Shadows hint at what was
and tease with what could have been
they keep the yearnings burning
and the unseen windows clean

Born unborn, oblivious and calm
Open to the big outdoors
A happy light, unaware, unknown, clean as slate washed clean
Don’t shadow it, don’t colour it
Even if you fear for it

The world is perfect, always have been
Its faith that seems to be wavering
Cutting, and measuring, pondering and planning
It doesn’t need all this tailoring

All will be well, there is no other way
And if there is a better one…tis on its way