bodhi spot

Enlightened underbelly: leaves

all veins and intricacies,

in imitation of the branch.

Orchestral forest floor:

birds chirrup,

invisible insects move

sticks, leaves rustle

and a bee in flight

in front of my eyes

and there it is –

that woodpecker again

tapping to the Om.

I sit

next to a fallen bough

rotting bark old

scabbiness peeling away,

all around leaves

falling still

colour of rust and autumns,

forest floor drunk belching

sweet deathful decay -

rebirth.

Light casts shadow

shadow consumes light

invisible threads spin

cocoons and dry leaves

suspended in this illusion

of order; everything

part of the same

kaleidoscopic sameness,

beginingless forest floor

moved by the same breath

I breathe,

wind of the four corners,

all present, arising,

gone over to the other shore

with thus-gone Akita already

in the deep channel of knowing;

the root-belly below

beats on the root strings

where the ethereal seed spins

me, sitting on the bodhi spot,

but I must go.

It rains.

The canopy crackles like fire.