it was the fireworks
and noise in all spaces
that thrust the minds
from one 365
to another 365

but did actions proceed?
is your mat folded,
you're still in prayer, bended?
did you see your end?
or your vision fade?

that mountain you saw,
those valleys below
and the meadow
and the scenery afar,
are they but just a dream?
or you went slow,
or you left the whim?

as we wind up,
say your prayers before you leave.
© Michael WRITTER