Marble floors surround the Bo tree,

birds' calls, deep shade and fluttering leaves.

Was I ever anywhere else?


Dusk falling buffaloes, wandered home,

feed from large bowls fronting the houses.

Old ashram doors open over a river of sand.

Smoke stacks hiding brickwork fires belch in the night,

old clay to new homes,

empty time moving.


Paradakshina -

slowly pacing footfall on marble

soft swish of passing robes around the square

mandala of the lamp-lit temple grounds

one side, citywards, noisy, the other not.

Nirvana and samsara

come up and fade away

as round and round I go.

Deep in the ancient cell below massive stones

candles weave shadows where the still image glows

in the bright silence - no one moves.


October 1997.