TAPASYA

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I’m not doing this right.

While I meditate, I see your lips,

Hungry for a kiss.

I sat perfectly still for three hours last night

Telling myself to let the bliss

Of the calm universe

Infuse slowly each part of my willing soul.

What I tell to go away, I miss.

So I make no commands.

Every part, by nature, is unhappy.

Unless part combines with part in the whole,

And this, every part understands.

So your lips should not entice mine.

I have my own lips, and perfectly,

Every human creature is complete;

Except when that great army,

Swelling to take each fertile valley

And the sun, other armies defeat,

And rule their women, and loss

Goes into consciousness—imbalance becomes dire,

Inflaming races to fight and capture;

Culture introduced to culture fans desire,

Competition and hate

Infuses the one world; my peace runs after,

My meditation is too late.

I want your race to be my own,

All that’s different I want to consume,

My whole beautiful being is not enough.

I shake in my meditation. I want love.

 

 

 

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