The Buddha Picture

There was a picture of Buddha behind him That heightened my first impression It somehow seemed symbolic of his soul’s deepest desires Symbolic of the utter restlessness yet security that his life represented A simple guy Yet highly dogmatic about the turning of our times A bit morbid for me A bit morbid for us I longed for the moments when silence struck Whether in the bustling city or secluded at the coast To gaze into his eyes and ignite something Something neither of us felt comfortable speaking about My hand brushes through his reddish hair Slightly adding to the messy fringes that were astray There were no words to say Words interrupted our natural rhythm Of an otherwise peaceful connection No need to define this divine selection Expectations open the door for conformity That which we repel Yet neither of us can stop this vicious cycle The past making headway where it doesn’t belong The future lying dormant in our dreams Just when I think he’s a stone cold sinner He cradles my face with his hands and softly brushes the sand off of it Grain by grain As the arguments become more frequent I look for the happiness in the smallest of places In the tiny fragments of our eyes As they lock in perfect unison The touch of our hands Full of a magnetic energy that I try to deny I knew why his face was so sad Why tears came streaming down but not of my own creation For a gentle smile would let me know that everything was okay again That we would survive the pettiness that struck our core That caused misunderstandings with no erase button I’m not sure who you are Some days I’m not certain I want to know Yet something keeps me awaiting your voice Awaiting your embrace As I recite the words in my head that seem impossible That seem to surge through me without choice I choose to accept the undying fate As I silently whisper…. Goodbye