Master, Geshe of my desert
Whispers in a vacuum are heard. Suspended bright beams of light, silver on your most lost horizon. Distant horizons appear, under the gray skies of your name. Name and pronoun lost, vagabonds eternally, without destination or fixed direction.
You keep the historical memory inside your immortal essence, pure and white soul. Fragile essence, in this cruel and vain existence.
Hearts, parties by deceit, seek lost their other Self.
Ego and alter egos united, intertwined in a nonsense. Without meaning, without excessive reason escapes, fleets like the petals of your eternal flower in love.
Hidden labyrinths desecrate your fragile memory. Memories that splash and impregnate your brave soul. Memories that soak, like drops of clear rain, like the soft hyaline dew of dawn.
Warm water of silver seas, immersed petals of white roses. Pirate ships with tall flags. White flags, raised, break the mystery, the ineffable calm of silence. Eternal silence, silence felt in your magical dreams.
Master, Geshe of my desert … Desert of golden mirages and tender dreams. Forbidden dreams, unveiled by soft sunsets, between dim lights of fine rays and suns.
Sailors in silver seas, blue oceans and silver mirrors. Mystical pupae of white butterflies.
Copyright poetic prose and photography