Where the air is so thin only the gods can breathe with ease
And the steep path endlessly stretches to the skies
The dry stone walls encircle Sikkim’s most ancient stupas
Guarding the prayer flags as they whisper on the wind
Messages of healing to wherever the wind horse flies
Carrying the mystery of the Himalaya to foreign lands
Water three centuries old fills the sacred pot
Bringing blessings to this, the adopted land
Magic and mystery meet in eternal embrace
Butter lamps, juniper, and incantations in the dark
Golden and silent the Buddha blesses with raised hand
Outside the Protectors of the Four Directions dance
On the Thankas timeless trees hang on burgundy walls
The artist’s brush has frozen the velvet forests of the hill
The conch’s call sounds, the horns blare, cymbals crash
Warm air breathes and the flags dip and sway
Drums pulse and throb then once more all is still
Enthralled by the secret magic of verdant Tashi Ling
Who can now remember the stark and barren beauty of Leh?
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