Remembrance

Rusted iron claws of ill habits, still stuck deep
Dark, poisonous fumes of ignorance blocks the sight.
Relentless hankering after sense pleasures,
Forever illusioned by the limits of the senses,
Scared of the darkness of the empty nights,
Too eager to hold the ego high up in the light,
Struck again and again,
By the hands of time
The weary soul
Meditates.
On silence and all sound it holds.
On emptiness and all existence in it.
On darkness that holds the seed of light.
All this, I knew, as The Blue One spoke to me.
I lost the wisdom through lives after lives of counting sins.
There's nowhere to go, must turn within. 

A personal painting, done as a way of seeking light, during a dark time.