Buddha faces me

In lotus form, Buddha faces me
This afternoon, his palms clasped
He is seated, his feet kissing,
There is peace
And quiet, there is no sound no ripple
In this cool crystal clear pond

Both of us here, in a while It is I

as usual bubbling,

Speaking words, and more words in
Popping out from my restless mind

Overheating, overdoing,

Why me now? Why have you come now
When I have no peace to offer you?

How can this kind of prayer work for me?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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