Buddha and the Lone Pine
I seek the
secrets of the soul,
From the
dewdrop on the lotus leaf,
Now
precariously perched on the edge,
Waiting for
the fall, to merge once again,
As the
vastness below waits to embrace,
I stand a
lone pine amidst this white spread,
Oblivious
to the enveloping stillness,
And the
chill wind that batters and bruises,
The Buddha
sits as still as the stillness around,
Eyes
closed, a faint smile betrays
The
submerging of the tremors within,
The ghost
in silence moves away.
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