If a glimpse of stocking
Was once considered shocking,
And despite my polite defrocking
The Profane continued stalling
Could one blame a lonesome Buddha
For restraint in the form of refusal
When the purest of the Muses
Approaches during Mara's intrusions?
I'd offer the Demon King tea
But would much rather spend time with thee
Despite how intense my interest may be
In the offspring of his Feminine seed
If my one and sole desire
Was enslavement to a woman's ire
But divine intention conspired
To distance my heart from her fire
Then action at a distance
Despite my loins' furious pistons
If for the greater good in consistence
May alleviate my soul's sickness
Amelioration, though guaranteed
By Gnosis neither heard nor seen,
Is processed temporally,
And forever out of reach it seems.
When the longing for Silence is distressing
And the Wisdom of survival depressing...
When Foresight is a curse instead of blessing,
And Hope a stranglehold, not caressing
What is there to expect?
When you already know what comes next?
Clouds part, but I don't want them to yet.
So be it.
-BU
