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Buddhas made of clay

Four horses will be foaled today
under a golden rope of sky
they will be riderless
until the end of the world
or its beginning,
judgment creeps in like a thief
and steals hope from the manger
there are tapestries woven with
a thousand green Hallelujah threads, there are lotus blossoms
blossoming in the fire.

Heavenly bodies yearn for birth. Blackbirds darken the sky.
I speak
to the wind,
words blow away.

Editing stage: 


and very smooth.
the two lines that are longer than others seem to be broken into two sections. maybe chop 'em in half to match the others?
'end of the world or it's beginning'- dangerously close to a cliche to me.
but it's still in editing phase and that's good.

nullus anxietas

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