skirmished lips could not kiss
the face behind the veil,
feeble limbs could not traverse
the dead souls of Shival Tsal
nor climb the galvanised breast of Drolma La

not this time
the exhilarating pain of rebirth
the quenching of mysterious thirst

this time
the acceptance that all desire
and all the desire there will ever be
has transpired –
there will never be any more than this,
pure mind reflecting
white clouds

not this time
the rush through the door of karma
the cymbal clash of sky against forehead

this time
the knowing of not-doing
the luminous peace of unknowing