Poet's Buddha

A thousand words of folly
bows
To one word 
Of serenity

giving a piece
Of my
Bread
Sprinkles
a 
particle 
of
Anticipation 
To our
Universe

My Ink
Is your 
Ink
We merge
When
Words
Flow
From
Our 
Pen

I know
This
Life
Will
Not
Release
the spirit
To endlessly
Flow

Rebirth
Is inevitable 

It is my
Hope
Though
that
My
canvas
Will
Become
Permanent 
For
My 
Next 
Life
To
Read

Maybe
Then
Meditation 
Will
Provide
An early
Intervention 
for this
vessel
To become
Free