The Interactive Poetry Pages

Shambhala Dohas


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Poem Number 172
My eyes are closed but I feel your fingertips
tracing every inch ...
carressing the crystalline death of me
but, you don't recognize it because you are so alive
you only see the outer me
I peer through a fragile shell
I forge alone into the abyss
More frigid, more pitiless than the polar lands
Where nothing is, no air, no birds, no trees!
Our heart warmly radiating
out to sea
till the wave covers us with spray
it freezes in an instant and we are frozen for all time.
Your eyes are closed, our fingers intertwined.


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