As promised, the ancient lakes are filled with water again, and today is a day of rainbows in the desert. While it seems inappropriate to look back, I nevertheless suddenly remember a poem I wrote five years ago:The Symbol Is Dissolved
By an early autumn morning’s rainbows
reprised in the rainbows
of midsummer’s late afternoon—
one in perfect happiness,
the other in perfect sorrow—
so comes from the remembered valley
on the whispered prayer of sunlight,
a dream, declared to River Sky
in which there is no shadow’s slippery promise:
where I first beheld her
and behold, beneath her,
struggling from the water into a cloud,
the purple basilisk that comes but once
before the symbol is dissolved.
Copyright (c) 2003 by Tulku Urgyan Tenpa Rinpoche. All rights reserved.
