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Children’s Play

In absence of a virtuous soul,

We remain in the midst of craving in a never ending hole.

Mired in avarice and desire,

Engaging in child’s play with fire.

Imitating copulation, squirming and stroking.

Not lovemaking.

Similar to the conflict in its capacity,

Quibbling in amusement with weapons of calamity.

No true objectives in sight, in vanity,

Incomplete fruitless inhumanity.

Let us not await our death to acknowledge our sensations.

Until then, our opinions and emotions

Are like children’s

imaginative sticks at play!

Or women’s cosmetics that so easily wipe off.

Take a breath on our way,

Paying tribute to the esoteric lovers in awe.

Consider the wise words of transformation,

So that we may even get

A glimpse of union.

A. Johnson

Well Kept Garden

Inspired by:

The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks


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