Reflections on Lord Buddha

Sorrows have shortened my life, I wander
In the garden on deep nights
Moonlight on the pond, the golden scales
Of sleeping fish glisten and glow–
I know the lotus seed of the enlightened life,
Ponder the deaths of so many people
Rotting in mass graves: Jews, queers
Gypsies, the insane, the demented
Herded into ovens, our war-torn twisted heart
Pounding with bombs and artillery, Syria.
And what can I say to the One who watches
Who unborn, brooded and knew all
Knew words before they were poems
Life force of unspoken emptiness
Who set His face a light upon the roiling sea
Spoke stars into being? I could say…
“I know your face like a stranger’s on a train
I remember it from somewhere.
You are a fabrication of death and fear
Perhaps you never were.” but that leaves
So much unsaid,
There must be meaning, I’m told

More than a book, there must be compassion,
He walked and lotus sprang under his feet
He forgot and birds broke into song
Singing the first dawn fire burning
In the light-storm-thunder of his third eye–
It was an intention he would not regret,
Buddha Gautama, born into beginning-less time
Spinning a swastika of love leftward turning.


What’s the difference?


Have a Tao Day.

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