Nirvana

As I study the sheen of a bronze Buddha,
an ikebana of laments breathe inside.

Buddha smiles.

I sip through a bowl of sweet-corn soup,
kernels melt in my warmth.

I take refuge under a banyan bonsai, immerse
myself in a rag picker's dream.

Buddha smiles, with brimming eyes.

Through a filigree of darkness, I watch
the calm.