Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Sutra By The Tree

the silence of trees
perfect meditators
true Buddhas
bent only to the wind of samsara

under eternal blue roof
seeking refuge
within
3 jewels
Buddha dharma sangha

yet there I am now sitting
back taught
against a tall oak
limbs as lidded eyes
tenuous above

still silent in shamatha's embrace
the tree trunk limbs leaves
formless in itself
impermanent yet rooted firmly
in the Buddha's grace

clouds whisper
cosmic secrets
swirling soft pillows
gathering dreamt dreams
minds origin remains ethereal

bee buzzing about
fucking wildflowers
open purple sex
at forests meadow edge
a breeze blows through

mynonself sitting as Buddha
with pointed breath
I too am the perfect Buddha
somewhere somehow

Milarepa's arrow to my heart
my body is lost
cracked eggshell for skin
eternal sand in my bones
enlighten my mind

beyond meadow's edge
glistening
a warrior approaches
mounted on a white windhorse
shielded by the dharma

trodding slowly
his fair steed
diamond sharp
with timeless breath
carried from time of the 3 Buddhas

through days of kings and queens
conquests and crusades
the dharma cut through
to days of a world at war
then

new power and desolation angels
the dharma remains
and here I sit
shadowed
by the vajra warrior

love's metanarrative snow
like my tight-rope grace or earnings
like my western ends and natal eastern mournings
like conservative roads
like liberal go

i live the narrative flow
of the sacred myths and stories
of the rooted trees and atmospheric flurries
of objective yes
of subjective know

Magnificent!
A wonderful read, thank you...
H