Borobudur Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

There is a place far from my village
Where one can move to higher ground
From warm desire, to earthly glory
Arriving last in formlessness

They tell me it was built of boulders
By men of faith in days of old
Though sinews twisted, scarred in hewing
They were embalmed with faithfulness

They tell me tawny black eyed natives
Created sand-filled mandalas
Painstaking intricate creations
Of many days backbreaking work

Then in a sacred ceremony
That work was carefully destroyed
Its colored sand in silk wrapped vessels
Tossed in a rivulet or stream

I cannot go to distant places
Nor yet believe in mandalas
My walk is in a weed-filled byway
Where little shacks still dot the path

Although my earthly walk is simple
No gold, no saffron robes for me
Or orchid gardens purple beauties
Yet my small faith still comforts me

Why does my mind return to Java
To that great maze I'll never see
Why do I dream of colored patterns
So cunning in complexity?

My life has always been a parting
A letting go of earthly goods
If not destroyed by wars or fleeing
I on my own will walk away

So when I hear of men destroying
Their finest artwork made of sand
I also turn to my small cottage
Filled only with fond memories

I never will possess mandalas
Nor travel to Sumatra's shores
There is no plan for me to enter
A golden temple's jade filled halls

Yet I can touch a formless message
Those far-off natives understand
The things that give a life true meaning
Cannot be held by rocks or sand

There is a place far from my village
Where one can move to higher ground
From warm desire, to earthly glory
Arriving last in formlessness.