All things come To the purple garden Where Thus-Come-One The Awakened Man Holds a sober, paupers court.
He doesn't dissuade Humanity's parade as They come, one and more, To ask, to know, the knowing, More than some can take.
All day, one day, when Normally he held discourse Silent were his lips, and In the silence, he was hoarse.
A silent disciple looked, and a Single flower was his answer. Held aloft, and brandished, And he arose, and wisdom Was his prize, for silence And attention to the profound.
Sometimes wisdom Doesn't make a sound, And the question begs The answer, when the dancer Dances on, not pausing to Expostulate, his answer in The dance itself, as whirling, Curling around a centerless Center, he may or may not Re-enter this theater, once Curtain call is cast, at last, And we slink aside, our pride, Another piece in the Buddha's Karmic Kollection.
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To the purple garden
Where Thus-Come-One
The Awakened Man
Holds a sober, paupers court.
He doesn't dissuade
Humanity's parade as
They come, one and more,
To ask, to know, the knowing,
More than some can take.
All day, one day, when
Normally he held discourse
Silent were his lips, and
In the silence, he was hoarse.
A silent disciple looked, and a
Single flower was his answer.
Held aloft, and brandished,
And he arose, and wisdom
Was his prize, for silence
And attention to the profound.
Sometimes wisdom
Doesn't make a sound,
And the question begs
The answer, when the dancer
Dances on, not pausing to
Expostulate, his answer in
The dance itself, as whirling,
Curling around a centerless
Center, he may or may not
Re-enter this theater, once
Curtain call is cast, at last,
And we slink aside, our pride,
Another piece in the Buddha's
Karmic Kollection.