He sits crossed-legged, trunk upright,
mind floating like a falling leaf
tangled in a gust of wind.
Searching for all the enlightenment
he can fit into a bowl of stars,
the light of which, while older now, still
captivates his gaze.
Silently, breathing in the wondrousness
of nothing less than all that’s ever been.
Wondering why the quiet is so loud.
He rises to his feet, stretches and inhales.
Thoughts begin to wander and soon he’s off
believing that he’s counted all the stars.