We circumambulate in clockwise rotations
far away from danger,
leagues beyond our sanctimonious ego
and separation sensations
orbiting the Buddha's recollections

A bell offers a Jasmine miracle,
and Tamarind scented atmosphere
of peace compresses our prayers

The golden relic smiles
like a star on the leading edge of
newborn thought, gravitating higher
than resurrected time,
unwavering, like an equatorial breath

Written by Sara Fielder © Jan 2016