He sleeps and the water runs
and I wait for the future
with my fears whispering to me.
It is odd that finishing a book
could make me so sad.
I read the The Razors Edge
by W Somerset Maugham
and now I see stories of Buddhas
arising like flowers in the field.
But I keep wondering,
is this just literature?
And I remember Bhagwan saying,
“You will not jump. until death, agony
and the unbearable push you.”
It was I, back then, who would never
sacrifice himself for his children.
And it is I, now, come to see
that there is nothing more precious
than your blood and spirit
gazing from small eyes.
And it is I now who questions
if the wonders of this world
can be worth seeing
if you have no connection, no bond,
no caring, and no continuity.
How empty gapes that chasm across which
an aspiring Buddhist must jump.
Darkness and fear of being alone and unloved
are echos from childhood memories buried so deep.
That last desperate moment when mother finally arrives
and you run screaming into her skirts.
gallagher
24Aug86
Irvine