Illustration reference: Greco-Buddhist art of Gandhara
1st century AD
Oh Buddha on the mountaintop
How do I make the sad thoughts stop
How do I make peace with this life
That seems to never end with strife
And if I were to solve that riddle
Move that needle, just a little
More shall come to take its place
All effort seems to go to waste
Is there a secret that you’re hiding
Does crying give you call for chiding?
Is asking why a show of weakness?
And of me I’d hate you to think less
Your silence seems to weigh so heavy
As if my burden acts as levy
That knowing look, it says to me
Be open to epiphany!
Let me guess, and take a chance here
Our very struggle, is the answer?
The climb is where repute is made
No matter how steep is the grade
To reach the top, or make attempt
It bolsters spirit, builds up strength
So when discord cascades hard down
We’re more equipped to turn around
I see now what I’m fast becoming
The remedy I’ll learn to summon
Deep inside, turns weak to strong
Most likely was there all along!