Students of the Higher Self

Her sleeves of compassion juice my mind

Materalism tears seem to grow wings of kind

this rain waxes new worlds

oh the juice of my brain

Set my sample fantasies on blind edge, broken heart

Threaded destiny hushes her lips

ego's fantasy cannot kiss

when silence is the womb of clear light

her sleeves are my right hand

as compassion teaches home

Through time my fingers etch future

Through time my hand traces might



This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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