Pure bliss beating heart (still not about vaginas)
Marble rooms and open . . . Arms ;)
They invited me in, showed me their home,
And offered me to join them (this isn't getting any better is it?)
I sat cross legged on the floor, with my fellow humans.
Incense smoke washes over my crown,
I showed appreciation and took a bow,
The music changed and I drifted off into a sleepless slumber.
The room fell silent, high vibrations from at least 30 bodies,
It wasn't until a child shouted, that I realised I'd slipped in with them,
"Mummy! Why is everyone quiet!?"
"Shhh, we're meditating"
Pure bliss, beating heart,
Marble rooms, and open arms.
I walked around, admired their art, and payed tribute to their gods,
A child looked frightened I was new,
So I put my kind face on.
The room cleared and soon it was just a few of us left,
I sat bellow the dome pinical, pointed down at my head.
I Imagined one by one, every emotion flower bloom out,
Beam out the top of my head and join the temple spout.
Usually it took me force, but I opened and it all shot through,
Many people had done the same - in that moment I knew.
Pure bliss, beating heart,
Marble rooms, and open arms.
I see and joyful, old, and fragile man, shinning light upon me,
As I go to leave, his friend, stops to consult with me.
"This is a present from that man, he gives this to you,
These gifts are meant for the gods, and we give this gift to you"
He hands me a flower, fluffy stem, petals pink and soft,
I look the old man in the eyes, and my heart almost stops.
I thank them both and bow my head, and head of on my way,
The security guard saw my flower and had wonderful things to say.
"It is a rare honour to be given the flower" and to me that meant the world,
I felt like they said "I see you" not just "I see a girl".
He asked me to wait, ran off fast, and brought me back a box,
Little and pink with a picture of the temple on the top,
Sweet cardamom weird fudge but not fudge things, were nestled there inside,
After a nice long chat, I had to go, so said my goodbyes.
Pure bliss, beating heart,
Rooms on wheels, and open arms.
The man at the best knew I lost my ticket, but let me get on the bus,
Happy faces greeted happy minds, no issues, and no fuss.
I took a seat, nest to a man, with a lot of bags to carry,
Being the same, I held my bags, and put the flower down beside me.
He moved all his bags, for my one little gift,
I tried to say that there was no need,
Ether he was helping took after it,
Or he just didn't understand me.
I knew in my heart, by his face, that he cared for the flower and knew,
It made sense as from the look of his race, he's likely to be Hindu.
(Because the temple was almost Hindu btw)
Pure bliss, beating heart
Concrete streets, and open arms.
As I walked around London streets, with my smile shinning bright,
The beauty that greeted me, was filled with human light.
I felt I was wearing a banner that read, "I connect with love"
I realise now, that it wasn't the flower, but my face that showed that off.
Pure bliss, beating heart,
Warming homes, and open arms.
As the guard had told meto, when I got home, I pressed it in a book,
I felt so guilty to end its life, just to keep its look.
I told my friends of my beautiful story, then it came to move to a new place,
I carefully packed my sacred flower, that helped me keep my sacred face.
On the other side, unpacking, "Argos catalog!? Why would I need this!?"
And now who ever has my flower, lives at the recycling tip.
Pure bliss, beating heart,
Marble rooms, and open arms.
It wouldn't live mortalised, in a decaying flower long,
I best let the physical Go, and write the memory into a song.