Sacred Heartbeat

“What’s the use?” spoke out the Shaman,
“Each set out to meet his maker,
Now on Earth are white-washed spirits,
Blown out minds, who seem as strangers.

“And, I see, the thrall of blissful
States is tempting. Two remain there,
Lying still in deep hypnosis,
Thinking not; they’re quite unconscious!”

Chanted, then, the single Shaman
Words, recalled his greatest magic:
Brought from yonder plane of dreaming
Sages seven from the heaven.

“Make a circle, watch the fire,
Round it form a chain together,
Listen – hear – the holy drum speaks;
Rhythm forms, the sacred heartbeat.”

Thus, they made a single circle
Round the pile of glowing embers,
Let the drums recall the rhythm
Of the heart that time remembered.

“We’re as one.” They spoke in chorus,
“Though the paths we followed differed,
There was but one destination,
Stand united generations.”

Om Mani Padme Hum

Sunrise

Over to the left in the same home county, the sun touched its golden brow to the High Street’s Eastern end, flooding the entire length with a pearlescent mirage of soft light.

It cast a shimmering spear through a particularly well-positioned bedroom window, instantly awakening the Master, who climbed from the narrow single bed, lit a stick of rose-infused incense, struck a set of copper wind chimes and then padded off to the bathroom chanting a dawn mantra.

Om Mani Padme Hum