Sunday April 18
*
A glimpse
upon the steep climb
to the leading light of my long day
slight gentle beautiful determined bright one
firmly alone firmly herself
to quietly remind me
that not so far away
for she I we two
our warm and bright
future day
and to her then to say to tell
of a faint glinting
in the dim light of a chamber
of the Samye
the first monastery built
upon the highest place on earth
There resting upon a small platform
amongst many wondrous things
an object gleams in the sharp mountain light
filtering through
from windows in this place of stone
Look beautiful one
it’s a vajra sceptre
fashioned from the heart
of a blazing sun
Once it tore through the heavens
amongst its glowing kindred
near molten in it’s searing path
about a glowing sun
across a million miles of heaven
in the comets tail that was seen
by no mortal human eye
so long ago was this
its destiny to fall to a green blue earth
into the Tethys sea
with a sizzling hiss
to plunge to the darkest deep
there to remain
for million upon million years
until Tibet soared into the sky
and it ascended to a lofty
place glinting among the rocks
winnowed in the wind
for millenia
The sound of the bellowing yak
the voices of the traders
barwa ma gi
meteorite down there
they cried and made their way
to the glinting prize
so on it went amongst the
smell of wool bales
jostling against the long matted yak hair
thunking against a prayer wheel
clinking against bundle of mani stones
through mountain crags
over rushing stream
down to the Yarlung valley
To the court of King Trisong Detsen
where had newly arrived
the great Padmasambhava
gaunt in dusty robes
weary from his noble traverse
to bring safety to the Buddhist life
Many deities support he’d won
many demons had he subdued
bound to allegiance to new arrived faith
But all was not finished yet
his greatest struggle yet to come
a quiet conference
the murmur of voices
at the foot of a high gold throne
and the glinting meteorite
passed to sage from king
to be fashioned beneath
that compassionate hand
into a vajra sacred sceptre
Up Padmasambhava went
to the heights of Mount Hepori
whose top could not be seen
from the land below
where barley lay newly mown
lifeless beneath the hail
sent by a mountain demon's snarl
to whom Tibetans were as nought
save for amusement from their feeble
efforts at propitiation
and the pain of their starvation
Where nomads lay feverish
beneath black yak hair tent
pestilence brought from the fell hands
of demons flying in the wind
and the candle lit in buddhist shrine
hardly able to stay alight
from their gusting laughter
and pilgrims cold and lifeless
clammy from the ford
of the sudden rising swollen stream
that rose beneath them
at demonic hand
so suddenly they were swept away
but steps from holy ground they sought
the last sound they would hear
their prayer bells jangling piteously
in the waters rock laden roar
Upon the summit of Mount Hepori
All these things Padmasambhava knew
the suffering of beings
from the corner from one eye
a tear quietly trickled down travel worn cheek
to drop silently upon vajra below
the quiet voice firmly said
no more
the vajra blazed alight
the mountain glowed with illumined light
every corner of that land
every cave and crevice
glowed as with a sacred fire
to bring terror to demonic heart
then the terrible struggle waged
high upon that mountain height
dark confusion against enlightened mind
to be subjugated forever
to work for the benefit of beings
in the most unique of ways
the land gradually
became a place of peace
for the vajra’s sacred message
spoken in its form silently
was that for all those who seek
within tormented strife filled changing world
theirs will always be
the absolute reality
of the compassionate enlightened mind
It sits
with others of its kind
beneath the gaze of our thought
as we make our way
our eyes blinking
in sharp mountain light
to rest in quiet field of flowers
beside flowing stream
beneath the towering heights
of Mount Hepori
All this not so wonderful
to my straining eyes
as your determined beauty
and uplifted gentle dignity
that endures with patient grace
this that I see in you
beneath the open sky
on this cold morn
of our spring of working and waiting
Lotus blossoms rest
upon the window sill
and so we wait
two as one
we our effort
real and lasting
slight gentle
beautiful one
April 12
* courtesy of A Luminous Diamond (Bright) Crystal Show productions.
reference material for the poem is courtesy of the Footprint Tibet handbook by Gyurme Dorje.