magical in the prayer wheel house--candles glowing on the floor, along the walls, in corners
at 3Am we stood outside the temple. in the gloaming. it was still dark--but lit by thousands of strings of lights. 7 days out of america. anyway, it was way before dawn, though birds chirped. in the temple, the ligths went out. we kneaded butter, tea, into tsampa.
a flurry of flys
from my bed the prayer wheels click, prayers flying off flags
the pop of insects against ceilings, floors. the mala on the wrist. keith's dreams.
It takes me right back there, k
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