A tiger rests on the Buddha's head
Lulled into sleep by the human's peace.
Both lost in meditation.
One on eternity.
One on hunger.
The tiger knows it must hunt to live.
The human knows only that he must be.
No one would feed a tiger with a begging bowl.
No one would see the need to appease its soul.
Why do we worship each other?
Why do we place one man above another?
Why do we believe that feeding a monk
Means more than feeding a carnivore?
What lifts us up above our own plight?
Not to find ways to balance the scales
But to try to tip them in our favor
With gifts to gods that don't exist?
I will be my own Buddha.
I will heed my own mind.
I will focus on my own life
As meaningless as it may be.
I will be the tiger,
Restless
Independent.
Solitary
Aware.
Stalking prey I can only sense
In the dense jungle beyond logic
Beyond conditioning
Beyond the ruins of rules
Set up on quicksand
Sucking us all into the pit
Of spiritual certainty.
Leaving us all believing
We are safely on our way
To a salvation
As elusive
As truth.
I will be my own Buddha the lost message of all religion of love and peave very nice thoughts shared
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The basic and genuine questions raised and their solutions provided in an adroit and humanly manner are thought provoking. Thanks for sharing.10 points.