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The story goes that the Buddha sat down under a tree

Some say he was idle and simply tired and just fell asleep

Called it meditation and could not decide where to go

		The Middle Way

In voluntary composure he grew lean in mind and in body

The trimmings of life left to the way side he changed

Himself and the world and suffered happily ever after at

		Cross Roads Without Nails

Had been a Prince and a beggar and fortune seeker for

A very long while as he cast his ragged soul for a few figs

Begging bowl in hand a loin cloth the only material hold

		No Snake For Temptation


Suffering and the suffering of nascent Four Noble Truths

Seedlings fell from a canopy of leaves fruit and shelter

Eternity planted a forest of growth one pause at a time

		Practice In Woods Of Restraint

Dehydration confused vision with paranoia and hunger set in

Troubling doubts meta-morphed into unwavering certainty

But he never lost faith and never hurt any sentient being

		Do Not Do Unto Others

Storms raged and rain licked his lips when thunder and lightning

Humbly collected enlightening energy and modest illumination

A frightening regime but no punishing prophesies bound for hell

		Not Even Religion

I own an allotment of plentitude granted by undeserved privilege

Rice on shelves of consumption and fruit from all over the world

A bag full of immodest riches and intricate robes made in the East

		Fast Car And Places To Go

And yet I long for simplicity resurrection and the loving embrace

Of wise worms in the garden and a sustainable Past Present Future

As the scorching sun foreshadows a climate of hatred and anger

		I Planted A Fig Tree Today


29th December 2019

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