Insane ideas arose.
My legs breathe light from the sun and they know where they were going
But I cannot see where for my eyes were awash by moonbathed skies.
Morning knocks at my doors on dark wintry days
To bring me stories from home. But where am I? Are we crossing each other, dear friend?
Down in the Somali mall, in south Minneapolis,
A mad man, whose eyes burn like the sun was shouting
At the roof of his lungs,
“I just saw the Buddha walking barefoot
and surrounded with dozens of curious people”.
The mob laughed and ridiculed him. They said he is out of his mind temporarily.
But it takes a little out-of-mind madness mixed with some intoxication
To feel the Buddha inside us.
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