Sand Mandala
We often spend time in the summer in Colorado. At the local chapel, there is an annual tradition of inviting Buddhist monks for a residency. Each year, they spend their week painstakingly making a sand mandala, only to spread it back into the river once they are done. I came to understand it is their embodiment of the concept of impermanence. I always wanted to offer to lacquer it for them so they would have this beautiful piece of art, but I don’t think they would be that interested.
A monk stands calmly by the flowing river’s edge
Sand slips through his fingers, and catches gently in the wind
A beautiful sand mandala, so intricate and full of color
A week of loving labor, quietly meets its end
Art, now just sand
Sometimes I wonder, is it all worth the pain
Everything torn asunder in its day
But I never say never, not one to complain
Nothing lasts forever anyway
For years, most every evening, we sat around that table
Family time together sharing stories from our days
But tonight feels so different, as we sit down to our supper
A place now is empty, just fond memories remain
A child, on their own
Sometimes I wonder, is it all worth the pain
Everything torn asunder in its day
But I never say never, not one to complain
Nothing lasts forever anyway
A monk stands calmly by the flowing river’s edge
Sand slips through his fingers, and catches gently in the wind