Buddha™s disciples knocked on ten doors

Each knock summoned ten sorrows

We live in a world of stinking detritus

Nature has its vultures and feline seeking mice

Here there is food for carrion and parasite

To death watch us among our smelly bones

The eagle's glint comes from flying into the sun

But we are below and lack such perspicuity

For the eagle it is always day but it is night for us

Sometimes the rain makes us afraid, each drop

Hitting the ground raises up a crowned diadem

Unlike fallen heroes who kiss the same earth.

The farmer raises his tubers from the ground

But its sprouts always point to the grave

Lit by moons borrowing light from the sun.

Here we have borrowed life from all this death

And can only live on recycled pain; the Buddha

Pointed to a dharma away from this karma

We are inured by prime rib and ox tail soup

Savoring the rue mixed with blood, this

Is why we live in such a messy place.

-Sai Grafio-

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