May the prayer wheels
turn for every creature
on this fragile earth,
our spinning home.
May they help cool
the rising seas
and clear the skies.
On this hot, bright
end-of-summer day,
we sit beneath steep
cliffs blasted by men
in a hurry for gold
and see everything change.
We chant, ring bells
and pray for peace.
Conches call, damarus clatter,
drums pound, horns blare
and we circle,
throwing saffron rice
for the sake of all.
Massive columns, millions
of mantra twirl as we
circumambulate the pavilion
spinning little copper
wheels around the edge,
each with a wish.
Forests grow here again,
ponds reflect the arching sun.
Ravens call from the treetops,
guardians gather.
Prophecies may be fulfilled
that benefit us all.
The gold is found within.
Seeking together
with pure hearts,
the alchemy of kindness
can transform.
May these brightly painted
wheels bring peace
for all of us,
may every living being
feel the soothing freshness
of this breeze.
— Annette Boushey Holland
May the prayer wheels
turn for every creature
on this fragile earth,
our spinning home.
May they help cool
the rising seas
and clear the skies.
On this hot, bright
end-of-summer day,
we sit beneath steep
cliffs blasted by men
in a hurry for gold
and see everything change.
We chant, ring bells
and pray for peace.
Conches call, damarus clatter,
drums pound, horns blare
and we circle,
throwing saffron rice
for the sake of all.
Massive columns, millions
of mantra twirl as we
circumambulate the pavilion
spinning little copper
wheels around the edge,
each with a wish.
Forests grow here again,
ponds reflect the arching sun.
Ravens call from the treetops,
guardians gather.
Prophecies may be fulfilled
that benefit us all.
The gold is found within.
Seeking together
with pure hearts,
the alchemy of kindness
can transform.
May these brightly painted
wheels bring peace
for all of us,
may every living being
feel the soothing freshness
of this breeze.
— Annette Boushey Holland
May the prayer wheels
turn for every creature
on this fragile earth,
our spinning home.
May they help cool
the rising seas
and clear the skies.
On this hot, bright
end-of-summer day,
we sit beneath steep
cliffs blasted by men
in a hurry for gold
and see everything change.
We chant, ring bells
and pray for peace.
Conches call, damarus clatter,
drums pound, horns blare
and we circle,
throwing saffron rice
for the sake of all.
Massive columns, millions
of mantra twirl as we
circumambulate the pavilion
spinning little copper
wheels around the edge,
each with a wish.
Forests grow here again,
ponds reflect the arching sun.
Ravens call from the treetops,
guardians gather.
Prophecies may be fulfilled
that benefit us all.
The gold is found within.
Seeking together
with pure hearts,
the alchemy of kindness
can transform.
May these brightly painted
wheels bring peace
for all of us,
may every living being
feel the soothing freshness
of this breeze.
— Annette Boushey Holland
May the prayer wheels
turn for every creature
on this fragile earth,
our spinning home.
May they help cool
the rising seas
and clear the skies.
On this hot, bright
end-of-summer day,
we sit beneath steep
cliffs blasted by men
in a hurry for gold
and see everything change.
We chant, ring bells
and pray for peace.
Conches call, damarus clatter,
drums pound, horns blare
and we circle,
throwing saffron rice
for the sake of all.
Massive columns, millions
of mantra twirl as we
circumambulate the pavilion
spinning little copper
wheels around the edge,
each with a wish.
Forests grow here again,
ponds reflect the arching sun.
Ravens call from the treetops,
guardians gather.
Prophecies may be fulfilled
that benefit us all.
The gold is found within.
Seeking together
with pure hearts,
the alchemy of kindness
can transform.
May these brightly painted
wheels bring peace
for all of us,
may every living being
feel the soothing freshness
of this breeze.
— Annette Boushey Holland
May the prayer wheels
turn for every creature
on this fragile earth,
our spinning home.
May they help cool
the rising seas
and clear the skies.
On this hot, bright
end-of-summer day,
we sit beneath steep
cliffs blasted by men
in a hurry for gold
and see everything change.
We chant, ring bells
and pray for peace.
Conches call, damarus clatter,
drums pound, horns blare
and we circle,
throwing saffron rice
for the sake of all.
Massive columns, millions
of mantra twirl as we
circumambulate the pavilion
spinning little copper
wheels around the edge,
each with a wish.
Forests grow here again,
ponds reflect the arching sun.
Ravens call from the treetops,
guardians gather.
Prophecies may be fulfilled
that benefit us all.
The gold is found within.
Seeking together
with pure hearts,
the alchemy of kindness
can transform.
May these brightly painted
wheels bring peace
for all of us,
may every living being
feel the soothing freshness
of this breeze.
— Annette Boushey Holland
