Our guru crosses her eyes
when she shits, puffs up red
and cries. We run to help.
She has written, All things must pass.
We tie the plastic bag up
and throw it in the bin
to sit at her side and wait.
Another pronouncement is imminent.
She looks off into eternity
and we follow her gaze,
knowing the mantra, It is as it is.
Our guru cries out to
Suffering Humanity.
The head priest folds over
at the staples and her sidekick
spins between washing and cooking
while the recorder priest
ponders the definition of 'All',
looking for boundaries. Guru says,
No boundaries exist. All things
are One. Ah, we nod, three priests
in a row on a green settee, Ah.
Our guru sees our homage,
crosses her eyes and shits again.
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