Upon the call of my inner bell,
I hurried on my whining wheel.
As I drove over the sickly road,
From Nangkor to Pemagatshel bored,
I saw the little Buddhas stood,
All along the road, their heads bowed.
And so lovely their size,
Which flooded the weary road,
By their capturing rapturous mood.
As I got close,
To their priming they rose,
To offer their honour- treasure,
Which no earthly scale can measure;
Sang their words with profound zeal and zest,
That surpassed all the amazement of the east.
A wondrous light permeated far and near,
That detached me from the world of desire.
They cleansed the dusty road,
With the wind of their Buddhahood.
Perfumed all the earth and air,
By the fragrance of simplicity and care;
Music divine of their heart,
Was heard in all the ears of art.
Rainbows of their inner spectrum inner,
Adorned the sky beyond compare.
Their number was endless,
And their love was boundless.
March 28, the Thursday’s view,
When the 2006 stood almost new.
To reciprocate their gesture holy,
I nodded my head with helmet slowly.
Marvelled, Ianalysed along the way,
Their philosophy,to so much sway.
At last came a reply from within:
“They’re the manifestations of Buddha,
Who find every living being suddha(pure),
And a ray of the Cosmic light,
That glows effulgent by Buddha’s might.
So, they cherish to honour their teachers
As they flash their light divine.’
Thus up and down the Bhuddhas go,
When all the schools their last whistles blow.
But the vision of the Buddhas does appear
Only in the eye of those who sincerely aspire.