No true poet
claims to create beauty;
he discovers it
the way a tambura player
discovers
that perfect place on the string
to stroke.
Deep within your soul
there is an antique table
where the two Buddhas, Sorrow and Joy,
sit to have tea.
Their arms rest on the table’s edges
as they lean close to each other’s eyes.
Within their intensity
lies four golden strings
waiting
to be played.
From and for God
