Buledi Temple in Summer of 2014
I cannot
content myself
in admiring
you
from afar
and down
here.
You are
speaking to me
and I have
to listen.
I have to
leave my sandals
as I leave
my inhibitions behind.
With my bare
feet and bare hands
and open
mind, I have to climb
your steep
and rail-less beauty.
Over a
millenium ago,
your still
beauty was built
with both
red bricks
and Buddhist
foundations:
these are
enough to captivate me.
(I do not
know your story:
scholars
consider you a minor one
and I
content myself in approaching you
with
complete ignorance
so I can
surrender to your beauty.)
So I almost
reached your stuppa
and breathed
in your stillness.
Sitting on
that spot atop you,
I can see
Dhammayangyi,
Ananda,
Htilominlo, and Sulamani
all set
against Bagan's vast reddish-yellow dessert soils
dotted with
sporadic green heads.
As my eyes
revel to your major fellows,
I am
illuminated by Old Bagan's waking sun
which slowly
grows into a golden one
that is
surreptitiously warming
my
contemplative
creative
self.
Copyright March 2014
Gerlie M. Uy
This poem commemorates my travel to Myanmar last year.
Please check my previous entry on Buledi which is spelled as Bule Thi.
and on other temples of Myanmar as well.
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