Buddah at San Francisco General
Not yet human.
Not yet divine.
Here, he meditates.
Waiting, listening.
Not wanting to cause
You harm.
He knows that all waiting
Must sometime end
As the spark within
Becomes the last
Burning illusion moving him
To thrust against
The expanding impediment
Of your thighs.
He wakes. Saying:
Sister of suffering
Carry me while you may.
I come. The truth
Of my horizon pushes
Through the darkness
Of your flesh, I sense
Paradise was never
Lost, it is in the reflection
Of ourselves. What we
Struggle toward.
Cry if you must,
But know:
You are that offering
Through which all
Worlds will shine.
Scott Malby
Posted over on Ygdrasil Journal
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