The Necessity of Opposition

At a gallery, stunned by
“The Buddha at the Moment of
Supreme Enlightenment.”
The most beatific smile
as all around him fierce demons attack,
throwing spears and knives.
Entering his aura, the weapons
transform into flowers,
petals drifting slowly to his side—
the impression embedded for a lifetime:
no attack, no flowers.

Day in, day out,
my system reacts,
attracted or repelled,
stung or comforted
by each next thing.
Finding a moment of
intimate distance
from both flowers and thorns,
each are seen as being
absolutely essential
to me, down to the smallest detail. . .
Knowing that,
even when the thorns
blossom into a crown,
can it be worn gracefully
with eyes wide open?

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