Siddhartha

The face of a dying carp
looks up with sad eyes
becomes a baby, red and loud
a killer
a criminal
a lover, man and woman
bodies emptied of their soul
his soul, Siddhartha
simultaneous, in his face
of a dying carp
Never dying forever
translating neither forward
or backward
into someone new
at the same
time

He bent down for a kiss
the faces were Siddhartha
Thousand-fold smile of the Buddha
the Perfect One smiled
smile of unity, over
the flowing forms