Hidden Beauty Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Tiny violet flowers
Peak out from beneath
Round green leaves
In a sunken pond.

More modest than even the lily,
They too grow from mud.
But these delicate buds
Hide from sight.

I have visited this shrine many times.
I have crossed this miniature bridge.
But I have always looked ahead
Toward the torii gate and the sea beyond.

I wonder if a true Buddha is like these buds.
Lush, drinking from the mud,
Satisfied with just a touch of sun
Sitting in the sacred, unseen.

I wonder why we all lust for the light,
Rush towards some climax,
Always craving a greater high
Never satisfied with the universal design.

Once again I am reminded
That insight comes from stillness,
From within the silence of a mind
At peace with the workings of space and time.

I will not run.
I will not chase.
I will not let frustration
Eat away at what I have gained.

I will sit like these purple hermits
And let the world hurry on
While I close my eyes to
The illusion of vain pursuits.