The Buddha's Bowl of Rice

There once was a prince named

Siddhartha

who, much like his people,

felt ill content of life

and so took it upon himself,

a sacred duty,

left his love and home

to find a better way;

traversing his lands

many a year

walking along riverbends,

up snowy mountains,

through dusty plains

hidden valleys and

dark remote forests alike;

finding no contentment

for his people's spiritual plight.

He sat with numerous masters,

discussed in detail

those subjects in philosophy

most found difficulty debating;

yet still, no enlightenment

would be attained.

Disappointed

with his lack of knowledge

to destroy the emotional beasts

playing within the mind,

he sat beneath a bodhi tree

meditating for days on end,

til a bowl of rice given to him,

offered a glimpse of the unseen realm;

it's simplicity

a reminder

of his childhood content;

ways and plays,

days full of happiness

with no suffering or distress.

Enlightenment switched on

like the sun's lighted rays

streaming

though dark heavy clouds

on a rainy day.

A buddha was born into the world;

and this sometimes salty

sometimes sweet

simple bowl of rice,

prepared by a mother's hand,

became an immortal meal;

food for a prince destined to be

a celestial being.

Ohhh....how I have missed it so,

this delightful snack,

would that I could eat it again

and also see this light.