Sangha

From within the heart,
that beat in a house,
an abode for a time,
arose an awakened mind.
A mind understanding,
but more than just that,
a mind that let go
of all that is set.
From the lips
that are no more,
yet each heart they adore,
a wish arose,
a dream of repose.
A teaching pure,
a path laid out with love,
gift of compassion,
uniting all beings above.
Today I sit, in silence,
and ponder: how many
know of this wonder?
Beings of light,
in homes with a heart,
eyes and noses,
in various poses.
Alone, yet not alone,
dreaming of home,
where skins of dust
are shedded and cast.
“Throw it all out,”
the lips of past sang,
peacefully smiling
and soothing all hearts.
The woes untold,
the woes told,
the joys expressed,
all were blessed.
Awakening spreading,
as pollen by bees,
seeding and feeding,
growing bodhi trees:
the sangha of love,
unshakable peace,
beings of light,
breathing with ease.
Walking among
sorrow and joy,
spreading the love
of lips long gone.
Each beautiful and One,
yet cause n’ effect
colors the lips
as nature’ art select.
Some small, some tall,
boys and girls,
quiet or wordy,
they come in all hues.
Connected by bodhi,
invisible strings,
beings of wisdom
with flight-ready wings.
And arms always open
ready to see
that each of us dreams
of finding our key.
To home.

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