Karma marks upon my skin
like a story growing old
Like the rings to count on a felled tree
I am lined and scarred
Memories from the cuts and bruises
on the outside me
The one that hits against the earth
and wind and fire and others.
Karma marks upon my heart
of things I want but don’t get
and things I get but don’t desire
The marks on a heart broken by pain
stretched by sadness, lost in loneliness.
The marks on a bursting heart of happiness
that has everything and
yet still feels dissatisfied.