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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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