I carry Amitabha Buddha around with me.
Above my head,
In gold,
He has an aura
Which holds me,
Guides and protects me.
He’s in my heart
In red,
His light pulsing through me
As little glowing Buddhas,
Flowing from heart to mind
And back again.
His presence brings a sense
of the purity that is possible.
Yet, I have the clarity to know
That I could never achieve it
On my own.
So with gratitude I say his name.
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