Her. I think of her always now. An unstoppable desire. Also thinking about the old bodhisattvas, those old bastards, those old holyish fools. I cannot shake them. They appear to me. They stare and in their silence I don’t know, I just don’t know journal, but....I don’t know. They call to me and I know that much, wailing from ancient cemented tombs, from catacombs. Alive they would walk around. They were holy walkers, venturing out into the vast bleak plains of desert and sun. They had reached their enlightenment and I know that vision, I know that myself, they come to me now and in their midst I feel the shame.
Someone to talk to about this someone to talk to about this
They reached the all-compassion. They embraced all and went where no others whispered of. They loved - can’t I love? Is it okay to love her? Can we stand together? When they came upon oasis, when they stumbled into the green heaven in desert, many killed themselves. They would not settle for any earthly beauty. They had already achieved all the divination they could possess. Do I love her, my prize, is she my earthly beauty? Can I give the love all up? Can I continue on my path since the sight of her?
I hold the knife and I don’t know. I am in love. And I fear if I should ever be. I can never be allowed to love.///