#nothiding

I miss the wind.

The clear skies.

There is no blue like an Amdo sky.

And the deeply dark, silent temples, with towering deities, who don’t even notice me.

Shy smiles and wide stares.

Elders. Malas always moving.

A constancy of chanting,

soft drone of mani bees,

breathing the mantra in and out,

turning the world as if it were a giant prayer wheel.

It is.

Butter tea,

hot,

salty,

fill my cup,

please.

I miss throwing a handful of lungta high on a mountain pass,

the wind takes them,

take me.

I miss the wind.

20/10/21