External wounds

A poem about transition, that I wrote this afternoon.

The day is clear,
the night is quiet-
and no one was
ever here.

Bitter winds,
open up the mind –
a man’s eternal
yearning.

A taste of the sea,
just sweet – and barely
enough to enjoy
the moment.

Nothing left, now –
but the mind.
A sacrifice to Buddha,
for ever.

Leave a comment