I’m ill and on my bed,
On this Il full moon Poya
day.
Through my window, my weak eyes view;
The full-plated full moon shines
On the background I hear, a discourse on TV.
A Buddhist Bikkhu, a professor of Pali and ‘Buddhist
teachings’
Teaching the folks ‘How to meditate propperly’.
Occasionally disturbed by a presenter, a desperate mimic of ‘Britchis’
(British) accent
They dissect, examine and critically analyze,
Each part of ‘ Buddhist Meditation’;
In the way that a medical doctor does
To a part of this decaying, mutable human body.
Various stages, reasons and ramifications for and of ‘Meditation’,
They discuss in a ‘profound’ manner.
The topic switches to those lately removed slums in Colombo,
The Bikkhu relates it to Loving kindness (Meththa) somehow.
Those slums being the last issue for the days discussion,
The show is thus called off.
Enveloped in the serenity, that’s void of TV’s bustle;
The full moon presents me, the perfect ‘Meditation!’.
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