Category Archives: Buddha

“Held in Audience”


“Held in Audience”

And from the micro to the macro, we come to points of rising suns
That bring catharsis to the eyes, buds burning of pure numinosum
Held in audience, thrall from so much beauty to be gleaned,
Heard among the many who have come
To see the dance, the movement, all that is a simple evensong.
Well, who can hesitate with so little time to breathe? After all,
They are so clandestine and yet so publicly installed
As when in the course of minutes, experience—no mere trophy of the wronged—
Grants extreme unction to what they want because, recalled
To life en masse, their tastes and knowledge equal—the one,
the other—here at once; the celestial rotogravure
Ensures that no soul remains aloof from beauty’s torments’ burned
Doubtless in doubt but that one has the wherewithal to withdraw
From propriety in favour of purpose in such polite society. Yes, well ,
do you really think the Buddha took the night off
From time to time to shake down bread while His saints soared aloft?

Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]

Bahá’ís throughout the world gather this evening and tomorrow within the First Day of the Month of `Asmá [Names]

“Double Sonnet in Honour of the Feast of ‘Asmá [Names]”

Greatness, the gulf of differences between
Recipients of names and the manifestation of the same
In full blown vain imagining; objective oversight’s the flame,
At least the spark any given second. A constant stream,
The crown of transformation comes in time to weave
A gravity within the press of what is never really seen.
Within a name resides a hidden thread that only seems
The confirmation both of life and being—in bas relief
Or so The Buddha warned—that holds a lethal trust. Between the name
And its receipt abide the seeds of pernicious doubt and protestation,
Manifest but without form, no timely attestation,
More an emanation than anything in revelation. In every atom reigns
The distance and sweet velocities of change. The many tools
Of blind belief in Adam’s gift seek rest somewhere within reach of fools
Embracing blasphemy in luminous dichotomies, dilemma’s
Punctuation marks’ delusions born of natural sedition. Litanies–
The beads of faith and understanding–are crystals of epiphany
Drawn from rich deposits deep within the endgames of enigma
And paradox serving providence and the farce of perpetual plebiscites;
Their greatest honour, servitude in service
To unnatural homeostasis between justice and integrity, yearning
And the One for Whom all yearning stems to transcendental heights
Born in mortal time of He from Whom all virtues flow.
And when denial and prayer are in arrears,
When needs and resignation outweigh a sum of means;
Words gone bankrupt erupt and deeds are stripped of fat and lean,
As hopelessness finds redemption in an average skein of years,
With all that overwhelms the truth at sunrise
In redemption in the simple phrase, “I’m still alive.”

“Quite By Accident”

Portrait de Stendhal par Silvestro Valéri © Bibliothèque municipale de Grenoble

“Quite By Accident”

Quite by accident one chilling snowy winter’s eve
In my youngest years I sat me down to read, and what was there
Was cumbersome at fifteen, but with time to spare
I let myself begin another novel’s reading, one sleeve
To the other. Written by the French,
The dusty tome concerned horrific hopes within a youth
In an older France who from his rural boots and uncouth
Raw beginnings set store in wealth to the very core and stench
Of Royal Louie’s of the day. The content of the book
Was not then nor even now a particular account,
But what was there had stuck a sticking point and still amounts
As much as talismans and strong elixirs when in the light of age I look
Again, and behold effects of Stendhal’s subtle registration
That it’s best to hold the tongue till one is truly questioned.

Red moth

…Portrait de Stendhal [above] par Silvestro Valéri…