Smoking with the Buddha
Passing the joint like a question,
No hurrying in the asking.
The Buddha giggles with no sound.
A coil of cloud curls on his lip.
Embers fall, like minutes
No one is really counting.
The joint is getting shorter and shorter,
Preaching impermanence like scripture.
Breathe.
Let the world unfasten.
Breathe again.
Even desire arches.
He tells me, nothing.
That is everything.
His silence thick like resin,
Rolls from our lungs.
The smoke ascends, not looking for anything.
It drifts.
It just is.
This is the ending without an end.
The flame goes out.
Enlightenment remains.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
