ཚེར་མ།
Thorns

I move through myself
like a wind howling
through the desert
the darkness inside
is space
according to my mother.

Outside the wind is blowing, too.

My quivering heart is held, despairing,
by all the elements
but mostly by
my friendྲ.



April 7, 2020

© 23. November. 2020 Simla

on the path of liberation
there are many thorny brambles
which you will cut

some you will step on
some make you bloody
some will curse you to peace


some you remove carefully
some you kiss
some you push through

you will make only mistakes


but on your way of ascension
you need someone to trust
and that is His Holiness
Saint Germain.

April 30, 2020

Your heart
It has to break

Sometimes it is ugly
Sometimes it will smell
Sometimes ashes will rise
Burning shreds of heart
Illuminating the sky.

Don't be mistaken
This ain't beautiful
These flames

This method of illumination
Is making light
from burning flesh

And after the ashes have settled
And the birds
Have taken their share
the sun may rise and shine again
But you I we are
No longer there.

יחד

9. September 2019

photography © 24. November 2020 by Nora Hoffmann

Jetzt bin ich kein Todesfall mehr.
Jetzt bin ich ein Lebensfall.

Seit Men Ri Lopon mir gesagt hat:
Es gibt keinen Weg.
Anders
geht's nicht.

ཚར་སོང་།

་I am building a new home
made of bags
and hearts
and trees.

I need one utensil, one knife, only

it has to cut my finger
when I am thirsty
so I can drink my blood

my foreskin
when I am horny
so I will feel the cut

my hair, when I need union
with God and everything

and most of all

your self
ཁྱོད་རང་།
the other self which
is not me/mine/my self.
ང་རང་།

There are two
different kinds of
oil in there.

One is lotus, and
the other papyrus.

When you
shake the bottle, you
mix them together.

Papyrus
is for records. And lotus
is for love.

According to Thoth.

The Higher Self is a wild place.
If I wasn't so terrified,
I might feel quite at home there.