Sacred Time
Armando Ortiz
Life is not the holy moment; at best this mundane time becomes a break into the extraordinary, where eureka is hollered after years of mistakes. Nirvana is only the waking of eyes, where for a lifetime your pupils are pried wide, and blindly live every second that passes, thinking that life is forever.
This dream is just as a rose dropping its petals, a sakura that is released from a branch, only here for a moment. Our Mother’s hand slowly opens, letting tiny birds take flight, while Father’s arm swings, to sow seed into the air that becomes a cloud of butterflies floating on bye.
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