Bodhi

Each day at dawn the thirsty crowd begins
to gather at the well in anxious hope
to draw up water, quench their thirst and sins.
Each struggles for his turn to grab the rope
and with each effort finds his bucket dry
and frenzied panic overtakes his mind,
then yields his hard-won place without a cry,
not knowing if this well was well divined.
If one a single drop should ever draw,
the rest would hate the wonder; he would sip,
and leave them there all their jealous awe;
and we would greet him with a brother's grip,
For we sit together, deeply drinking
Thirsting after naught but peaceful thinking.