I turn down the volume
of the world,
But filled with trouble,
the treble turns up,
And my ego
shrill,
still from
its fall,
Plays out its full range
of nuances,
nuisances,
all.
But if we seek a birth
in a place of plenitude,
It means we're still in servitude,
And that captivity,
is our reality.
Planetary service
is not for tenderloins
or pearly
loins,
Each Buddha to be
learns to wait
Through many lives,
till there arrives
a motion
picture
showing
suffering
slowing
down
And the rise of
something finer--
the still life
hidden in the
flicking pages
of a book
once alive,
then, pressed,
now decompressed
The butterfly
returns to life
refreshed
refleshed,
Motion,
has cast off commotion
And has learned
both to move
and to be
at rest.
This,
for matter
is best,
A state
of blessedness.
Home I Back I Next
from Reissues, New Issues- 1998 Poems on Buddhist Themes
by Paul L. Dolinsky
Copyright 1998 Paul L. Dolinsky
All Rights Reserved
pdolan@taconic.net
buddhistpoems.com