The things I see


I see a mountain bedecked with wild flowers,

And on the grasslands below, the proud, stately creature you called your own.

I see the white-washed compound wall of your home,

And at its entrance, the two black majestic Dok-Kyhi(s) that stood guard.

I see the grand prayer halls of the monastery that was your home,

And in its walls, the sea of maroon and red that ruled your world.

I see the holy lake before which you stood,

And in the water below, the prophecy you saw of the times to come.

I see the wrinkles on your tanned, brown skin,

And in your eyes, the pain from knowing you’ll never see your home again.


3 thoughts on “The things I see

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