From
opdemoniac
The soft hue of dusk stretches itself
across the earth, the warmth of orange
petals on the wind—
you sit there, still and silent,
holding both life and light
between your open palms—
the lotus, in its quiet bloom,
soft like the early morning sun,
spilling over the edge of the horizon,
while the vajra waits,
bold in your left hand,
an anchor to the storm, a bridge
to the heart’s center.
'Vajralotus Tara - Orange Tara' by Ronald Coone
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