peace . . . peace . . . peace

I am the Candle Flame

I am the candle flame for Tibet on high
My country stolen mountains in the sky
Valleys weep your clouds float on by
Freedom taken from me that’s why I cry
Oh mountain trails how I miss your track
My flame burns bright I want you back
Within my soul I yearn my eyes wet
Tibet you were my life ill not forget
Why did you come take my home away?
Even then you didn’t ask I had no say
You stole my heart my spirit all I had
Now here I burn my flame bright but sad
What did I do I ask the question why
For I grow weary to see my land for I die
Here I stand you smile look down on me
Ill fight for you till my death to set you free
So many years i've suffered silent in pain
How I yearn to touch your gentle soil again
To climb to yonder mountain peek above
Once more my spirit to feel of your love

Tony Robin Bulley 17th October 2008 ©

Vigil

Where are you now,
with your palms together,
bowing,
your dark red robes
wrapping the wisdom
of a thousand years,
white knife peaks,
and over six thousand
monasteries?

Your home not your home
and yet your home always,
you wander,
you meditate,
you chant and pray;
you teach, you love,
or you stay
and must keep quiet.

Yet prayer flags still blow
in high Tibetan air,
prayer flags still blow
in the deep dark-eyed hearts
of your people.
There are places
the intruders,
the violators
cannot reach–
places alive with
the smiles and tears
of your lost land.

Red robed ones
with your calm eyes
upon the world,
you who pay homage
to the consciousness
in all things,
you who see far beyond
appearances:
you know past time,
you love past duality,
and yet you cry too.

The mountains of Tibet,
the vast plateaus and
green valleys,
the sky lakes and blue rivers,
the sons and daughters
of this sacred land
know and wait for you,
and for their time
within space and beyond
to be free.

© 1996 Layne Russell

Many thanks to our member
Madeleine Weber
for her design work