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IN JAINISM, O REJOICE Leona Smith Kremser
Obeisance to the Great Hero of Jaina Bhārata ... Behold Within a poet's meditation A vision begins, a vision of Jaina Ahimsā. In a colour of dusts Here rests a little temple. Dust to the dim doorway, Dust to the clay lampwick. Relic incense, powder marigold, One hundred eight Mahā-mantras, rest them. In dust, all things seem much like the others.
Hushed, the poet wonders Who was the devotee here come -Graying by the years, To strike the wick against the karmic bondage That obtains from thought, word and deed Done in the violent company of the body Till the body, too, made a colour of dusts.
Alas, little temple Without a spiritual heir In this cycle of descending dharma That lives and dies in materialism. Spiked materialism, the yoke within the garland! Who would not flee? Yet the self-induced yesterday Bequeaths karmas to today and tomorrow. Even the devotee made jinapūjā. Hence, the soul transmigrates To learn freedom from karma,
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