I walked around the city,
trying to find the temple.
North and south, east and west.
I though there must be a Buddha
somewhere in this place.
Whilst searching for the temple,
I decided to search for meaning.
But I ended up just as lost.
Then, as if by magic,
there was the temple.
A distraction fit
on a hot summer’s day.
But it was closed.
What blue, I thought-
looking at my old tired feet.
So, I called the burning sky
and the loneliness of
a wandering poet.
Silently, a bird flew
into the empty street.
In one shrill cry, everything
appeared in summer clothes.
And once again, I was able
to find my way home.
A Wandering Poet 