posted on: Wednesday February 10, 2010
Bobby Bretz ’12/Portfolio Staff
He gazes on the sorrowing mass.The gardener and the arrowsmith,With voices raised, praise his vigilance;He lets a tear come to his eye,But cannot cry. Maghavat prays a useless prayer.Seekers, discerning the fears of all,Advance like fires, steady and small;The arahant, unwounded by the pleasant land,Carries poison in his hand. Undrowned by death, unburdened now,The sandalwood scents on windless airReach the other realm from there.He sees the lotus, hears the lark,Even in the dark. Maghavat hums a soundless song.Made god for the good of a life before,Made friendless, he paces the heavenly shore.He lies for the night, free of earthly ache,But cannot sleep—he lies awake.