Issa

Among five bodies, translucent,
Issa took respite from Israel.
Crouching by rivers,
learning teachings, the great Buddha.

White priests present the caste
raising Vedas, simultaneous,
as Issa tilts his weary tuliped crown
in confusion.

"World-Soul, Manu, Creator,
is there no correlation between this
and everyman?"

"The beauty of life exists not in law and priests,
but in a teardrop, the iris of an eye.
From the first day and each second,
no idol nor beast shall be uplifted."

The Sun has no power of its own.

"The Wailing Wall resides beneath my sternum
alongside breath of beasts that attempt to feast my bones."

Through tongues and time passed,
words are as sand, a hand wiping slates clean.
Words through translation.

"Raise your chin to the skies, friend.
It is there your spirit lies, not beneath your feet, bare.

Your path is for you to discern,
I am but a tool.

You do not need to see my speech as truth.
Yet I have chosen to view you,
clear and lit, in pale moonlight.

Pure."


© Susan Marie