Equanimity

4am heavenly Buddha night
I look up to see a billion koans lighting the path
as I stumble to my shower, last day, last night here, among Tathagata dreams, down , down, down,
in Melbourne town, car
horns bleating, woman arguing with her man,
raining probably, and my
big mountain Andre
sanyassa crooning to
some woman, and my
dark clad friend in
Northcote is playing his
guitar for an English rose,
and the Greek says,
‘Look, it’s Apollo’, pointing, always pointing to the sun, and in my other incarnation as hermit of Warburton
I think of all the candles lit and prayers given and the boundless Christian love,
and Gaia and Eden,
Maya and Willow playing innocent in the garden,
and here its Buddha
chants to Tara with claps
and Ooh’s and Ah’s,
all is equanimity here
friends; at W Tree.

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