All Buddhas, infinite and bright as oceans of stars,
Dwell in all realms in all of whatever is called space,
Manifest in all eons in whatever is called time.
Infinite in form, they dance: they share in a single act.
Each produces illusion on illusion on illusion:
Rainbows within rainbows within rainbows
Shining in an illusory sky,
Opening in the eyes and hearts of beings
In a living moment of self-liberated awake.
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douglas,i'm glad i found your blog. i have a question. i recently lost a very dear friend. she died on ny eve,it was very sudden. i found a tibetan book of the dead two weeks ago, just after her death. is it too late to read it for her? does the body have to be present? she was buried but her grave is too far for me to go to. i tried to enter her home( i had keys) but could not. any advice?
ReplyDeletep.s., the above comment is mine, marianne mcg.
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