The Buddha just burns
that's all there is
no identity
but light
form
turns
ash
turns
ash
necessary
for play
of shapes
of shapes
as mercurial as mind
the swimming pool of stars
to dive into
the wings the sword the cross
all black
as black is only
form
given life
by light
only burning
the buddha
wants
only
that
we fit
the tightest shells
we can
to learn
to burn
forms die
to burst
from
