in lotus repose,
palms touching in mind and heart,
soles raised in gratitude.
He was breathing with his brother, the bodhi tree.
He inhaled morsels of wisdom,
and exhaled the encumbrances
of his past – castle, wife, feasts –
memories evaporating like a mist.
He lived the rock years of self-denial and hunger-
only sitting and breathing; no eating, no thinking.
With each breath, emptying the mind of any delusions,
breathing in the sparks of Truth.
A breath of a moment continued for years.
Siddhartha’s orange garment covered a being of light,
its energy oozing from all his pores
that flowed upward into a cosmic Oneness.
His mind opened,
he became Buddha
to serve, to heal and
to “save all beings from suffering.”