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in buddha's hands

Writer: hamid ebadihamid ebadi

no matter in what state


the old buddha’s mind


i’ve always been here


sitting


in the palm of his hand


heart flooding with


grieving and love




a poem i wrote many years ago and posted here on this blog before. i can’t find any other words to add to these at the moment. are you grieving this world of ours as well right now? is the grieving deepening the love that you feel, the love that you are, that we all are? how can we know how to love if we have not grieved? how can we grieve if we have not lost our way in love? there is no escaping the vicissitudes of human feelings. we don't practice to escape, we practice to feel more deeply. it is in the depth of that feeling we realize that what the world is suffering from is inseperable from me. it cannot be put away, it cannot be embellisehd, it cannot be forgotten. it must be heeded and cared for.

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