Missing you

Days moving by, a year has passed, the limp appears permanent.

Brought you flowers from the yard: your beloved white geraniums and some periwinkle and a bouquet from the pear tree, like the pretty one you left for me during those last days. Your rainy drizzle presence filled the park, and the day is grey with your absence. Although your identity was obliterated, bless you as your kamma takes you to your new life. Each day starts anew, with the results not yet written, and, as if nothing had yet been done, we can be free.

May we find happiness and the root of happiness.
May we be free of suffering and the root of suffering.
May we never be separated from
the great joy of appreciating one another.
May we dwell in the great equanimity,
free from passion, aggression, and prejudice.

To my teachers
I bow down