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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1728382-The-Wise-Man--The-Whore
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Spiritual · #1728382
A Spiritual Poem
A wise man once walked the pre dawn hour practicing his walking meditation and he chanced upon a woman sitting by a Bodhi tree, instantly aware, this creature's ill reputation.

‘Hello young Sir,’ said the woman, drawing not a flicker of response, and oh! So intrigued by his calmness and handsome face, she moved to cross temptation.

‘Can you not see me young sir!’ She demanded, still drawing no response, beyond a slight move in direction, she felt the rise to further challenge and stepped to block his entrance, exposing her breasts as he came towards sensation.

‘Young Sir, why not take respite from the trails of your journey, come, let me ease your burden with the pleasures of my flesh.’

And with this our man lifted his head for the first time and gazed into her eyes, surprising her further still by a depth and calmness beyond still, he closed his eyes a milli-second while. Oh! Such silent refusal, such gesture that instantly incensed her shamed sensations and she pushed her self upon him now, her breasts so caressing of his saffron silk.

‘You know you want me,’ she said laughing mockingly into his handsome face, and for the first time in over two months Siddhartha spoke.

‘Can you not see I am a holy man - woman?’ He said, meeting her laughter with such calm un-flinched gaze.

‘Oh! I see! - You fear Karma, eh?’

For an instant Siddhartha felt a sting of anger rise within his chest, yet maintained his steady breath.

‘You know of Karma?’ He asked.

‘Oh yes! I know darling, I know.’

'What do you know - woman!’ Siddhartha asked, surprised by such a sense of angry irritation.

‘I know darling, I know - Karma up to you darling! - Karma up to You!'

It would have been completely imperceptible for normal awareness of bodily sensations, for Siddhartha’s breath control was already beyond that of all but the most practiced aesthetics, let alone us common folk. Yet he was seized by the kind of incredulity not felt since his first visit to the banished and the realization of his father’s folly'd senses. He closed his eyes again; shifting attention to his feet now and ground his mind/body sensations in a depth of calm serenity, then he stepped back and bowed to this mad woman in deep and silent respect.

The woman’s heart and mind were instantly filled with a stillness she had only suspected, and she mouthed a silent “Thank You” as this handsome man resumed his long and winding road.

The woman returned to her village, never to feel the arrows of shame from those despicable child-men again, no longer feeling an outcast, no longer feeling the purgatory of humiliated shame.

Later, many miles further on, Siddhartha found himself lost deep reverie, his meditation disturbed by implicit memory.
He thought of his mother and his wife, thought of the nurse who’d nurtured the childhood of this life, and as such thoughts did fleet across his awareness eye, a warm smile began to form on his young and handsome face, as a single word completely flooded his mind - WOMAN!

Siddhartha continued on, still many years from his own Bodhi tree where one night he too would fall.
Fall back into paradise lost and became our Buddha (awake) to all sensation.
No human soul witnessed this event, only creatures of earth and sky.

And only the Wise Man & the Whore know Why.
© Copyright 2010 Batesywriter (batesywriter at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1728382-The-Wise-Man--The-Whore