Buddha's Lotus

I sat on top of the world,
years ago, before the statues fell.
I sat atop the Golden Buddha
in Afganistan.

I formed a lotus
on his head
reflecting the lotus
in his hand.

I followed Buddha
through no ego
and no space.
I floated above Buddha,
above the roof of the world.

Years later, after
the Buddhas were tower rubble,
I stood atop Oklahoma.

I stood above the Wichitas
on Mount Scott.
I stood above towns,
trees and rivers.
I watched black lava
divide the world
into uneven squares.

I said my secret name.
I chose my secret path.
There, at the roof of the world.