birdsong look


The smell of the grass I see that holds
Ants and imprints of bodies - feet
Reminds me of the green eyes 
Looking jealously at the sky
While it poured sadness in drops
Making the earth go for more - life.

The geese are picking at it - grass
Eating while being followed by their young
Eating too now
Gone while I burn under the sun
White skin changing and drying up
Like yellow grass coming up

clouds as white moss
sky as light
trunks in the shade
spiders running up and down 
the rivers of unforgettable
everyday life burdens
we forget over and over again
to keep on going

Life has a birdsong way
Of reminding us that we're alive today
Our song could be as soothing
Knowing we will die alive and living - not dead already.

Orange beak visitor hops around
While I write in our open-air palace
A pram has stopped to rest 
Two pairs of sunglasses too
Covering the grass for a while
With more bodies and conversations

Flowers making love
Love making flowers
Nothing to pick or choose or reject or abandon
When all we need is 

- nothing else

but that birdsong look in (y)our face(s)


please don't fall
please don’t fall


I’ve travelled the plains of six illusory realms

Where a rain of misery fell without pause

And the dark fog of delusion pressed close around me.

I lacked the broad hat of right view,

The raincoat of unfaltering faith,

And the warm dry cave of good refuge.

Swept by the river of desire and craving

Swollen by driving rains of bad action,

I was borne to the horizon of the ocean of misery,

Buffeted on waves of three lower realms,

And battered on rocks of unwholesome action.

– Mila’s Song in the Rain (Milarepa)


Published by chameleoniantimes

Chameleonian Times, works by Helene Vanderhulst

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