Epilogue

Siddhartha,
now that I am smoke on the wind
and ashes in the silent burial grounds,

now that I have left you
in the vacant heat
of your solitary cot,

I have forgotten
why it was I longed
for my human form
except for that need to join
with your flesh and your spirit again.

My sweet love,
you are love,
again and again
my hungry lover.
One hundred thousand lifetimes
may not have been enough for us
to extract the essence of this lotus.

Even as you contemplated
my cooling lips
and wrapped my quickly dissolving flesh—
tenderly draped my feet and hands,
tenderly witnessed and blessed
by our son’s tears.
Swaddled in the death garments
and cradled on the rough pyre—
these are the symbols
frightening life with such untruths
and loneliness.

Just as on the last night I made love to you,
I watch you devour my bones and aged humanity—
poisoned by a simple snake.
I see you reach out toward my heart place
just to feel how alive you are, left behind.

The river is your lover now, Siddhartha,
and our son will fly
on the winds of his own Karma.


Farewell Siddhartha
until I find you
breathing quietly and chanting
your beautiful words
in the shade
of the eternal
and golden garden.