A Poem from the Book:
“Through the Window of Taj Mahal” ( a book of 30 poems)
In all the gardens of Nirvana
I could never find
A blossom of meat
Or a leave of bread.
The branches of Words
Were heavy
With the clay fruit of Illusion.
I returned to the garden of Ignorance
And from the branches of Dust
Picked thorny, sweet fruits.
Their thorns stung my tongue
And their flesh,
With the taste of bread,
Lightened my eyes.
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