Mourn not the death of Buddha; though there were those who saw him die,
laid him among the purest flowers; for the lotus does not lie. And even the gaudy peacock stood
in mute humility; Overshadowed in all of his color,
by spiritual love and true beauty. Mourn not the death of Buddha,
though the moon saw a body there,
Quietened even it's soft light
to veil the presence rare.

Yet there is no sadness
within the hearts of men. As the wise love of Buddha
lives on now as it did then. Mourn not the death of Buddha
nor his beauty which took form
But love him as we love ourselves
for there is no loss to mourn. Be glorified in his wisdom
which in our hearts does still evoke. True understanding of existence
and of that which love bespoke. © Dennis Pennefeather New Zealand