a Buddha on the nightstand

I've become skeptical,
yet I put my hands out,
into the dark night,
to be slapped,
and bit,
and burned,
and stung,
for the worst storms,
are in the mind,
wait them out,
play some cards,
tap a tune on the knees,
or shadow box the breeze,

open the shutters,
step out alone,
meet the Devil at the gate,
pay no heed,
go right through,
the wicked world is waiting for you,
the Devil throws a jab,
a southpaw angel,
with a right foot glide,
I stick and move,
then step to the side,
play through the pain,
blood in the eyes,
cramps in the thighs,
feel the spirit rise,

no other journey but to find the Self,
no matter a distance so far,
or an ocean so deep,
or a desert so wide.