The East

Lam, Ram, Yam.

Take me to India

or to Tibet.

How weary I am of

Western practices.

No church has ever shown me

what the East has.

I now walk in a glowing,

violet enclave that

rests my soul

and never leaves me.

Sunday services gave me a 

fleeting fuzz.

Joy devours me,

then spits me out,

then eats me again.

A crimson love

warms me. Pow!

It swells and

slaps a smile on 

my face.

In the West, we 

always seem to be lacking

something.

Love, energy,

companionship, intimacy,

patience, confidence.

Because of these voids,

we consume, but

never fill them.

Coffee?

The energy dwells

within us.

We only need to

pluck it.

Liquor, blow?

We have confidence

in abundance.

It's there,

believe me.

I was always unsure about

delving into and

committing to the ways of the East,

but now,

I am as sure as the Earth.

Reviews

[...]

... oh wow ... that's quite an amazing tribute to the east ... the narrative is engaging ... the play with words is skillful ... you convey profound thoughts ... though i wish that none of it was at the cost of the West ... as an Indian i can tell you that the West offers a lot of freedom of expression ... anyway ... this is a great read ... :) ...

[.ronald.039.]

I really like this. I think most of us can relate to this feeling that the unknown holds the answers (at least, that's what i took from it). Another good piece. I'm definitely a fan.

[ChristianM]

I really enjoyed this.
It seems both us of us are different in our poetry and in life.
Not wanting to conform, exploring, experiencing.
Great piece.