Sarnath

It is peaceful here, there is

a presence, in the soft atmosphere,

‘invisibles’ seem to nibble at

light, they churn in harmony

facilitating surrender of

‘indispensables’; the body here

knows its own requirements,

is a well-wisher of particulars,

a harbinger of inequalities, is

attached by reason of necessity,

demands no surplus exigencies,

nor rights of passage. Genesis

may be acclaimed here of

the wheel of life. Envisioned

in its final form when Ashoka

reigned. Here in Sarnath, I am

compelled to a potency

of forgiveness, I feel no

weight in darkness; the

landscape a diaphanous

exterior counseling an

obedience to natural laws.

The monk chanting.

His voice is one endless

flow into some reckoning of

an existence dwelling in an

indivisible, central point, where

no voice may claim authority.

Leaving behind every gifted faculty.

Prostrating at the feet of the Buddha.

Access to four noble truths,

guidance to eight noble paths.

The trees in bloom know all about it.

It’s like a well-kept secret, to be

shared equally among enlightened souls.

Poems by Dennis Dinopoulos published in Indika: