POEM - Who ‘Da Buddha

Sitting on the curb

Relaxing and maxing

Thinking that the sky is playing

Blowing in a mass of clouds

Swirling and stirring

Making little shapes and scenes

And I know that I am not the clouds

I am not the curb

Or the grass or the wind

The sun nor the tree

I am the thought

The one that makes this moment

As I sit in rotund bliss

With my hands in a meditative way

My thoughts look inward

Who ‘da Buddha

Me the Buddha

And isn’t it sweet

I am nothing more

Than nothing that is

I sit in silence

To preserve the silence

I am aware no more

Than aware I am awake

And I see no more

Than that there is more to see

I send my love in outward flow

Through the universe

Limitless and void of enmity

Then again to sit in silence

To be awake

To feel the clouds form and reform

Echoing my thoughts

And now there is a tree

Forming roots and branches and leaves

Then more it forms

The flower and the fruit

So full and round and full

From my place on the curb

I reach out and retrieve

And taste the fruit that is before me

And isn’t it juicy and sweet

Who ‘da Buddha

Me the Buddha

That’s who ‘da Buddha be