"[When you die], a five-coloured light, which is indicative of the purity of ... the expanse of reality and ... composed of coloured threads of light twisted together, pulsing, shimmering, translucent, radiant, clear, bright and awesome, will emanate...and shine piercingly before you, at the level of your heart with such brilliance that your eyes cannot bear it...Do not turn away!"
-from The Great Liberation by Hearing,
from The Tibetan Book of the Dead.
I see, behind my eyes,
sight diving out to engage
the cave of my rib-cage.
Heart fluctuating sighs
slow, dark lungs untangling
the empty upper-body yarns
that twine together and harm
my spine, knotted at angry angles.
Circulating light bellows within,
twisting to my crown as blackened lace.
Fifty-eight uncreated faces
morphing, fight for my attention
then dissemble into throes
of piercing neon spears;
quarks subtly zip and disappear
as fear and calm fade and grow.
This is far as I can see so far
as sight again tangles at the waist;
lost amid a lack of grace,
I sense some karmic scar.
Undone buckle of the body's belt
concedes pristine cognition.
Seeking perfect circulation,
I belly-breathe and melt.