Under the Bodhi Tree

Prophets, incarnations and apostles
many were they who roamed the earth
Speaking in different tongues
their message everywhere the same

Coffee & a Conversation

So I met a bunch of fellas over an imaginary cuppa in a cool cafe called Gaia’s, with soft, puffy, white clouds around us.

There was a slim guy with longish hair & a crown of thorns; another with blue skin wearing a peacock feather in his hair; one with dreadlocks, tiger skin & a crescent moon; a bearded & ochre-turbaned man; another bearded fellow in pure white vestments; one with long earlobes, a beatific expression, wearing a robe & carrying his hair in a top bun; a grandfatherly old chap with a flowing white beard & a staff and another whose face was cloaked so I couldn’t see it. They looked vastly different from each other, but all had a similar, strange glow around their heads.

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