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By Michelle Douglas

to Kitaro  
ancient magic sings in the fertile wind  
and weaves the waving boughs  
into silence-the bovine  

tread quietly along the sacred roads, past  
marble temples graced with vine  
and faded gold-the buddah  

quietly smile in their humble shadows:  
all wise, gentle, round-bellied 
and tall- the boy  

plays his stringed sarinda softly 
 beside the slow, green Ganges  
and sings-the Brahman  

paints his white tilak with steady handspraying to the Supreme Soul for  
his Karma-only in Bharat  

does the slow, green Ganges flow, and  
Buddah smile in shadows while  
the bovine tread the road  

Michelle Douglas