A Buddha, Or...
or just another homeless man,
standing on the corner
of the street going nowhere.
what do we hold in our hands
that will remain?
even daylight is swallowed by night,
and night disappears into the dawn.
and love in the end
is merely a moment given,
a grain of sand
on a deserted beach.
the trees shed their leaves
for the winter cleansing,
and so we lay our bodies
down into the earth's embrace!
o to be ocean,
filling the great chasms of history.
o to be mountain,
and bridge the earth to the sky.
o to be wind,
to come and go without restraint.
o to be fire,
to consume, and yet to give warmth!
and o to know,
that we are each and all,
that we are none and nothing.
both the falling star,
and the blackened sky...
and yes a grain of sand
beneath the traveller's feet,
the home that cannot be taken,
but is freely given!
and hands that have no need to hold!
Eric Cockrell's Other Poems
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