an old writer and his words

  • PEACE MANDALA

    The saffron robed  monks stoop carefully, dropping single grains of colored sand onto the mandala of peace. They rock gently as the intricate wheel takes shape and form. They are drawn to its center, closer day by day, countless hours focussed to a singularity. They interlace fingers bow a collective head and pray silently for…

    Lou Faber

  • MANDALA

    Day one, and they are hunched over the mat meticulously drawing faintly on its deep blue surface. Day two and sitting, leaning forward they precisely place the first grains of sand. Day three, the same and the picture begins to emerge though they dare not breathe. Day upon day, minute upon minute hours on end…

    Lou Faber