Thursday, October 27, 2005

Hindu

This self, this ever changing mystery,
So indestructible and permanent,
It wanders, eternally, from shell to shell,
And rents this home, we call our bodies,
For just a little while,
And with its tears, its joys,
It pays the rent to this frail world,
This world which seems - but never is.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz

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