Sleep

During the two thousand years
of Buddha's sleep
Nothing happened.

The World was going its usual ways.
Waves of the Universe
washed the sand on the beaches.

Nothing happened.
Stars were shining
a dew of morning,

For two thousand years
Nothing happened.

Would Buddha need to observe this?
He closed his eyes.

He is in the garden.

Farewell

To conceive a verse,
one needs to storm
love, smile and joy,
death and sorrow, their
sisters.

In this time of hunt
for the real life ghosts,
Luxury is verse's name.

So, when a friend, who
in this carmic cycle was
a dog, a frog or a human,
leaps into eternity,
give it a soothing kiss
and utter merely a "bye".

If a call trumpets in your ear,
offer it a verse.

In the stellar shine measured,
You will follow in no time.