A Buddah Is Born In Me
a buddha is born in me
&
every morning
a 'buddha' is born in me
as a clear babbling stream
are all my meditated thoughts-
the roots of worries
like mirror reflections-
the moon-beam of life
at a reachable distance-
i gaze into myself
in perfect perspective -
and visualize myself
as a rootlet in every happening-
the goodness of others blossom
as the bright bars of morning sun -
i destroy my poison
to let in good thoughts-
'bliss hereafter in my life! '
i enjoy in meaningful silence.
&
in the speed of seconds
in the friction of events
in the rashness of conclusions
and in the heat of anger
i expolde offensive words
and burn myself-
why everyone has drawn
daggers at me, all in unison?
i knock my head
in depths of darkness.
where my buddha
had gone dead?
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poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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