Paradise

The mountains high,
the skies so blue,
And all the sights
so fresh and new
No shortage of things
to see and do.
But paradise,
it passes too.

The mountain air,
the tropical sun.
Passerby:
a morning run.
A misty shower
that angels send.
But paradise,
it also ends.

The sun retires
to starry skies.
A different city
comes alive.
It seems an ideal
place to lie.
But paradise
won't always thrive.

The people bright,
the faces new,
some foreigners
in white and blue.
Sharing about
what's false what's True.
And paradise
it needs this too.

White clouds yield
to Bodhi sun.
Passerby:
a morning run.
The sounds of street
they pulse and thrive
as quiet drummers
come alive.

Seeking sideways.
Spinning 'round.
Climbing up
and falling down.
Looking,
it cannot be found.
And paradise
is more profound.

The mountains high,
the city streets.
A little drummer
and silent beats.
A change of heart
in tranquil time.
And paradise
cannot be mine.

A plane departs
to foreign land.
Where is conductor
of this band?
Can the drummers
beat in time?
Paradise,
won't you be mine?

The mountains high,
the skies so blue.
And none of it
compares to you.
Who discerns
what's false what's True.
And paradise,
it needs this too.

Intercession

Below Lotus
Kneeling
Bended knee.
Buddha, won't you
intercede?

We've weaved a mess here
in the muck.
Buddha, won't you
lift us up?

Silence
came the poignant reply.
Buddha! Rescue!
Lest we die!

A silence that crosses
time and space.
Buddha! We beg you!
Bestow your grace!

Buddha,
give us right reprieve!
Our enemies chase,
abuse, deceive!

Buddha!
Come!
Deliver us!
To the pristine lotus
beyond this muck.

You ask for what
you do not know.
And beg for grace
I did bestow.

Bestow I did,
but not your taste.
So kneeling, you beg
some other grace.

But there is no other
grace than this.
If you want the lotus
endure the shit.

Did you think
there was some other way?
If so, I'd have given it
yesterday!

Fake fertilizer
smells so sweet.
Yet die from cancer
before we meet.

You ask for gardens,
but not manure.
You want results
but can't endure.

You beg my mercy.
My mercy's this:
You beg for flowers;
I bless you shit.

My intercession
has already come.
The dawning of the
Bodhi Sun.

Get ready.
I tax you
further still.
Chase, besiege,
ground through the mill.

Below Lotus
Kneeling
Bended knee.
Buddha, won't you
intercede?