December 2006

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December 9, 2006
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Buddha in Glory

Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed and growing sweet–
all this universe, to the furthest stars
and beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.

– Rainer Maria Rilke

Amarantha, sweet and fair,
Ah, braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee, let it fly!

Let it fly as unconfined
As its calm ravisher the wind,
Who hath left his darling, th’ East
To wanton o’er that spicy nest.

Every tress must be confest,
But neatly tangled at the best;
Like a clew of golden thread
Most excellently ravell=E9d.

Do not then wind up that light
In ribbands, and o’ercloud in night,
Like the Sun in ‘s early ray;
But shake your head, and scatter day!

– Richard Lovelace

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