Acceptance

With cusped hands the Buddha sits silently under a fig tree His thoughts are flooded but drought has shriveled the fruit He owns nothing but a ragged loincloth in absolute modesty Scratches his dry skin and impermanence in the infinite sun Does not set out to be a hero simply searches for a kind way To lead by example in a world that does not seem to care ‘Look at the old man he is a hobo a beggar and petty outcast’ But deep inside he forgives and waits for complete surrender His faith carries the burden of seeking for truth and resilience He has carved out a begging bowl crafted from generous nature Mind open for kind alms and the belief in eternal benevolence He puts his belief into a few grains of rice and handful of verity Absorbed in floating meditation and prayer he begins to rise Levitates on credence and lets go of distractions and wealth Other than trust and the knowledge that he is never alone A scorpion settles on his lap and challenges the conviction Not to hurt any sentient being however dangerous it may be He embraces the creature for all life on earth has its place Is he hallucinating because of thirst fueled by dehydration Scorched existence or direct effects of self-chosen humility Has complete outcome detachment taken a toll on his soul What are the merits of being a lone hermit and ascetic recluse Is he not a far Eastern solitudinarian totally out of his depth Yet we may come to think of Jesus who also rose from the planet Miracles happen if we work our dreams and solid convictions I sit on a cushion of comfort in the safe surrounds of my home Close my eyes and light flickering candles of sandalwood scent Imagine a chanting chorus of chakras merging into one essence Float on a canvas of hope kindness love and inescapable compassion Relinquish irrational need for perfection and escape for a moment Calm in certainty that there is merit in quietude and ceding control 03rd May 2020