Familiar enough, they live in the same flat
Sleeping on the other side of paper walls
Phone calls muffled.  Or clear as day
When nighttime drama has been peaked

Passing when scurrying
Off to work, out for a walk
Gone to the beach for a breather.
They politely nod with pleasantries and smiles

              The flat is surrounded
              By invisible but ever-present
              Life forms
              Who arrived recently

The three sages, the visitor, the novice
In the novitiate all strangers
We try hard.  To be civil, kind, pleasant
We would do well to have a warm relationship

Sitting at breakfast on Tuesday morning
Master encounters the viejo leaving
“oh, hi”
Frequently those would be
The only two syllables to pass
Each of their lips

               “We are here to guide, protect and educate”.
               The disembodied women and children
               Steeped in ages of tradition
               Have found their way here.  Or were they summoned?

Rising slowly the Master stops the flow
And cuts into recognized routine
“I have something for you,
I made it last night.”

That evening, Tuesday, another chance encounter
The docent, el viejo and the Master
Chat comfortably, alone, without the others
A quiet and peaceful cabal

               The building was a shop
               Or perhaps, a parts supply warehouse Which
               Upon installation of sacred statues
               Became a sanctuary.  With a loft

Do you practice in a particular way?
Are you comfortable in the expectations
When your inevitable death arrives
Are your wills stout and resolute?

You have heard of Kabbalah, of course
The concepts strange to me
Numerology
I’ll stick to what I know, goodnight.

               Let them go to slumberland
               Attend the special space
               Where they can see
               A Pure Land