When I Look into Your Eyes

                      When I look into your eyes,
                      I see the Buddha,
                      when I hear your laughter,
                      cries of sorrw or delight,
                      shouts of joy, a child’s first breath,
                      I see the Buddha.

                      World-filling wonderful sounds,
                      as simple as Chautauqua cardinals
                      clinging to topmost twig of tallest tree,
                      singing approval of the morning sun,
                      whippoorwills chanting mantras in
                      evening dusk, distant woodlands.

                      Thoughts dwell on the miracles of life,
                      I see the Buddha.

                      (Surely someone has written these words before me,
                       surely I did not write these lines.)

                      In worlds in all directions, I see the Buddha,
                      in all of life, I see the Buddha, revealing wonders,
                      finding comfort in a cosmos magically a part of us,
                      and us a part of it, the Buddha’s scope and majesty.

                      I’m a sailor trusting to feed an albatross from my hand,
                      participating in rituals unnamed, arriving now, here
                      to blazing fireplaces in homes too long deserted,
                      embracing life, I see the Buddha.

                      Have we forgotten who we are?
                      Look inward,
                      thou art Buddha.