The eclipse of a phase.

The eclipse of a phase.

On opening the congregation

of ceremonial thoughts lying

in my Pandora's box,

inside I see...

no punitive God, but one

with incense and images grinning

with little bells

to announce his presence,

behind the Temple bells gong

echoing deep chanting.

Minus the fig tree,

the forgotten Buddha

lingers, gold on brass,

shining.

The paradox of seeking

something new

searching..........

when young

now Iies to rest in passing.

On the eclipse of a phase

I close the lid 

seeing......

my Buddha icon

still smiling.