A website of a Poet who is both a Buddhist & a Militant Humanist - a Voice for of CONSCIENCE AND COSMOGONY
I have seen them sitting strewn like wildflowers on a grassy hill.
Falling into innocence
like bubbles thrown up from the foot
of a nested forest waterfall
each inhalation a clean inflation
of the mirror of a sphere
thin as a dragonfly’s wing
buoyant upon Himalayan air.
Falling into innocence
like children casting bent-safety pins on a kite string tied
to skinny sticks
in hopes to catch the fabled mountain whale!
Women and men peeling off their education
to go skinny dipping
and playing at being children playing
at yogi celebration.
They count on uncounted incarnation
created by pious speculation
that one lifetime spent fishing for the Buddha
they'll pull in the big one and be
a perfected savior of Humanity.
Falling into innocence
like training for a high jump
and sniffing at me
for not seeing that courage and faith
is justified
when purchasing your innocence
with the coin of credulity.
I think that dropping into innocence
is indeed a true Mystery
with true accumulation
of altruism and molecular increments
of body mass transformation. But please!
How can you trade on future human habitation
when there are cries out in the street
of hunger and oppression?
I think I measure must be made
of acid and of alkaline
of sitting sitting on a cushion
like a gypsy's crystal ball
waiting for a fairy glow
and marching in the demonstration
to face the shield and bludgeon of State
and the Wall where martyrs go
Facing bullets with defiance
...and falling into innocence.
...and falling into innocence.
...and falling into innocence.
Like the man with a suitcase
who put the line of tanks to shame,
...and falling into innocence
like monks in robes of yellow flame.