Sadhy with a cell phone
In white
he meets me.
His small bag
With a thousand gifts.
PhD’s, healing theories,
Vipassana dancing at his hem,
Hard to see me
in the happy beggar.
Part Franciscan, part Buddha
Hindu lightwalker.
I judge the holy man
too holy.
Overboard in laughing,
fasting, renouncing, praying.
Disarming me
he takes up a cell phone.
Befriended, I am
delivered to my destination.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment