Siddhartha, my brother of a different mother,
Nirvana’s road is paved with your sole intention.
Your ideas are conceived to strike like lightning,
Flashes of fruition that force isolation.

Siddhartha, you locked me up in a far cloister.
A cell built to foster my love’s abstention.
To teach me detachment through holy internment
You bade me choose love or face annihilation

Siddhartha, what did Janapada do to you?
She was my royal wife and my heart’s true attention
You made me compare her to your hand picked devas.
Who’d make any mortal seem rather simian.

Siddhartha, I was better off as a donkey
Chewing sweet hay rather than enduring transcendence
You brought me salvation through forced isolation
And left me bereft of my souls’ occupation.