236th Chorus

The Buddhist Saints are the incomparable saints
Mooing continue of lovemilk, mewling
And purling with lovely voices for love,
For perfect compassionate pity
Without making one false move
                of action,
Perfectly accommodating commiserations
For all sentient belaboring things.
       Passive Sweetsaints
       Waiting for yr Holyhood,
       Hoping your eventual join
       In their bright confraternity.

Perfect Divines. I can name some.
What’s in a name. They were saints
Of the Religion of the Awakening
From the Dream of Existence
And non-existence.
        They know that life and death,
        The knowing of life, muteness of death,
        Are mutual dual twin opposites
        Conceptioning on each side of the Truth
        Which is the pivot in the Center
        And which says: “Neither life
        nor death – neither existence
        nor non-existence – but the central
        lapse and absence of them both
         (in Love’s Holy Void Abode)”