With this wesak crowd
A woman winds her way
A shawl thrown on her shoulder
Of weary limb and grey
She has lost her only son
Two weeks ago today
The tears do flow so freely
This holy wesak day
She burnt the scented sticks
She places blooms on altar
Then kneels on marble bricks
She hears the master’s word,
Repeated by the monk
‘all this will pass away,
we are as people drunk.’
‘we are but clay that melts,
our deeds alone remain
the rest will always perish
until nirvana gain.’
‘today we live, next day
we die, as all things born
but actions as our karma
we reap what we have sown.’
Her eyes were dry, she felt
The dream of life a farce
Only good and noble action
Would to nothingness pass.
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