In the Buddha Temple, I prayed
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Lit two candles — one male body shape
The other, a female figurine
A Yang-Yin combination it was.
Two smoke silhouettes rose …and then
Engulfed each other in arms.
This was Dharamshala, a town in India
The living Buddha had taken refuge there.
I went to meet him. No acquaintance was I
But he called me by name. Ö Anand,” he said
Come and talk to me. Where’s your Master?
Do the Chinese still keep him in prison?
Of course, you don’t know, but I do
The dhyana-Zen Master is in shackles.
The Master serves Lao-tse these days
You and I — or the entire world — can’t do anything.”
Good-bye,” he said, go back to America
And forget about your last birth as Anand”
So, here in America, I am back again
A discarded membrane of Buddha’s tongue
Not able to speak, but write I can
Embroider Buddha’s words on paper, I will
And burn twin candles every day.
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Lao Tse:6th century AD. Chinese philosopher