founder of the lineage a great magic iron bird
you see the bird laid 5 eggs & from each
5 ancients. generations later our master
(& then many other masters a self-distinguishing lineage)
as abbot he studied again-again the oldly forgot native religion
he changed the practice he took a wife. one day
his master said you are equal to my actualization go deeper still
go to nepal, where 1101 yogis still practice in the opened valley
(a fabulism of monkish giggle midst the veil on veil of mist)
all these teachers & their foreheads. after labor
through the ranks he returned ripe
transmitten with the sated karma, mining bodies
within bodies, sibi's dove within the lacquered flesh
root and router bodies- yet-
all this true enlightenment so few students.
he said i am nobody i just do my best make
your mind soft soap nothing sticks a spider in a cake
consider afflictions slowly. him asleep was clear light within.
for nine generations whispered shames
of extinguishement. (failed & dazzled by his failing). but
at the end a refined text-egg & another iron bird
a chanted unrhymed repetition a new order in baked souls
liked very much.
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