Alien to pain,
spoon-mouthed and mothered,
he is not bothered by dismal skies
or strident cries of sick and dying.
The devastated and the aged never see him
nor he them.

The decrepit nor the cruel
nor the blithering fools
infesting the narrow crowded streets
are part of his agenda.


Neither the dying nor the dead
bled white by hunger
or eaten by ravenous leprosy
does he see.


His eyes untouched by searing realities,
His ears unsoiled by ponderings of wrath,
deep tranquility becomes him as
he sits cocooned under
Nirvana.