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.
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.