Beneath the Bodhi Tree the Buddha sits;
a faint smile paints his lips.
He is alive, yet his body is weak with emaciation;
cadaverous from years of renunciation.
He points his right hand towards the earth,
which in turn reveals his karmic worth.
Extricated from Samsara,
undeterred by evil Mara;
he is joyous despite his poverty;
he is still, yet his spirit at last is free.
All is quiet now.
Mara's armies dissipate in the morning light,
still dim enough to see the morning star.
His peaceful expression does not denote a fight,
and his body does not reveal a scar.
Such is the battle of the self;
its effects often do not take form.
Yet if one looks close they will see the radical change;
like placid water of the sea after a storm.
The Buddha sits beneath the Bodhi tree,
looking much the same as when he first came to sit.
Indeed, the effects of enlightenment are difficult to see,
save for a faint smile which paints his lips.