Serenity
As if a sacred nothing were a kind
Of gift, Gautama left his palace, went
To wander in the world’s ways and to find
Enlightenment adrift on water—sent
His speculations, hidden in a stream
Of meditation flowing like the change
That isn’t change: the river’s currents seem
To shift, but in reality they range
Forever, changingly the same, bound by
The ever slipping, always present banks.
Disciples in their billions also shy
This way and that, though most of them draw blanks.
..Hold on! But that’s the point! They seek the balm
….Of scentless lotus, scentless water, calm.