Wednesday, July 21, 2004
The Bodhisattva Embraces Stillness
The sounding brasses
with their rousing tongues
have vanished long ago.
Even the flutes
(notes delicate as birdsong
carried by mist at morning)
no longer stir..
Now I am stroked
with long stemmed flowers
by unseen hands.
My image, that gentle lady
in her Buddha pose,
the one I once listened to
so impatiently,
today beautiful and serene
as she enters her quiet bliss.
Such indefinable joy!
I move slowly
in my turning pose.
Each breath sends tender waves
of longing everywhere,
a garden of flowers
opening together in moonlight.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
(bodhisattva: One who devotes her life to the betterment of humankind.)
with their rousing tongues
have vanished long ago.
Even the flutes
(notes delicate as birdsong
carried by mist at morning)
no longer stir..
Now I am stroked
with long stemmed flowers
by unseen hands.
My image, that gentle lady
in her Buddha pose,
the one I once listened to
so impatiently,
today beautiful and serene
as she enters her quiet bliss.
Such indefinable joy!
I move slowly
in my turning pose.
Each breath sends tender waves
of longing everywhere,
a garden of flowers
opening together in moonlight.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
(bodhisattva: One who devotes her life to the betterment of humankind.)
