Again and again, the ghosts of aeons past <br />walk the narrow corridors of your life. <br /> <br />Again and again, they call to you <br />in the darkness in which you are lost. <br /> <br />Again and again, you hear them not, <br />preoccupied in vain to find the way. <br /> <br />Again and again, you stumble and fall <br />into the hardness of walls and floors. <br /> <br />Again and again, you will not learn to love <br />the world into which you have been born. <br /> <br />Again and again, you will not learn to leave <br />the world in which you age and die. <br /> <br />Again and again, the confines of your life <br />urge you onwards as this world turns round. <br /> <br />Again and again, the ghosts cry out to you <br />knowing what they have learned. <br /> <br />Again and again, you cry out also, <br />not knowing why, for this you have not learned. <br /> <br />Again and again, the corridors of your life <br />end blankly, wordlessly, in empty rooms.<br /><br />Rory Hudson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ten-stanzas-on-buddhist-themes/
