The enlightened one and a disciple walked down a mountain road
to sit at the foot of the cascading waters
that were famous in that province.
And it was here at this waterfall that he understood
For the first time the poured-outness of God
Into the world of nature, how divinity infuses itself
In the commonest things, the splash of a trout
Or an insect's buzz in the hollow of one's ear.
And when his meditation was complete.
The two climbed back up the mountainside,
Where a park ranger was issuing them a citation.
What is the matter, officer? he asked.
You park registration is good for sixty minutes
But you have been here for almost an hour and a half.
I see, said the compassionate Buddha. But you know,
We were praying by the waterfall and lost all sense of time.
That may very well be, the ranger said, but it's not honest
To pay for sixty minutes, then try to get away with ninety.
I assure you, officer, I had no intention of deceiving.
But as you can see, I am but an old monk,
And these legs are not so fast at climbing steep hills
As my young companion's.
Then you should have paid for three hours, said the ranger.
Perhaps you should put a meter on the waterfall,
So people can deposit their money directly, said the disciple,
Who was red-faced with irritation.
Peace, my son, said Govinda. Indulging in sarcasm
Solves no problem, and creates many.
Besides, this good man is merely doing his job.
Write him a check then for the full amount,
But mark on the memo line:
'A tax on illumination.'
Mike Finley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/govinda-and-the-park-policeman/
