the Golden Buddha

goddess of indecision,

i thought to myself!

she dressed in her dear silk wrap

with huge dark eyes and a

perfumed nose,

sniffing me,

leading me around the Temple

which was filled with mother of pearl

and poignant dreams.

i dreamt mainly of being with her,

sealed mouth to mouth

with my anglicized body,

while she spoke of skilled craftsmanship and

long long years of devoted toil;

she spoke of a King and his royal family,

leading me around the rooms,

and i watched her body.

there was an invitation beneath the unspoken

words but what language was she using?

her shadow 

kept urging me onward, 

deeper into the Kingdom,

a tour guide on sacred grounds,

and yet i knew she was a public presence

paid for an hour or so of historical description.

she smiled while 

her words traveled hundreds of years

into the past, 

and i heard birds singing

in the beautiful gardens,

saw a branch tremble.

i trembled, thinking

we could have changed the world 

but she was on a tight schedule.

she said she was a dancer in her spare time.

she said goodbye using her good English.

the Golden Buddha sat nearby,

his expression unchanging.

i saw no trace of plaster

but heard a deep spiritual breathing;

the air was humid and the birds became quiet.