There is no spell

There is no spell

That is not broken

No words that have not

Been spoken

No dream

That has not come true

Nothing real

For me without you

There is no end

Without a start

There is no pain

Without a heart

No clock

Can turn back time

And any fool

Can write this rhyme.

Silent Buddha

In repose

How still he appears

Barely a ripple in the air

Breathing slow to rise

Unbidden thoughts hidden

From a prying mind

Nothing penetrates

A carefully constructed

Vacuum within which

His consciousness lies

Until it does

The peace disturbed

On the inside

Not that it would be seen

Swanlike is his mien

Floating serenely

A touch of grace

On a silver sea

An ugly duckling

Beneath the surface

If only to remain

In one place

Braving a riptide

And for one moment

There is a window

When all that could be seen

Was without

As he lay

Safely at peace

Within

There will be a return

To equilibrium

Movement measured

Without need

Of momentum

No matter how slight

A respite

It may be

And he will breathe

A silent word

Of welcome