A Case of Nirvana

‘A case of nirvana,’ she says –

and I imagine it packed in a suitcase,

a certain portion of it, to take as luggage 

everywhere I go … 

small pieces of nirvana

might be broken off for snacks

to sustain me while travelling, or

in liquid form it could quench my thirst

more than water (do we not all

thirst for nirvana?).

When arriving somewhere 

for an overnight stay on my way,

I might open my case and remove

a silken cloak of nirvana 

to wrap around my shoulders: 

light, yet warmly comforting.

What if I were to put the case down

and forget to take it up again?

I might spend forever after

searching for lost nirvana. Or perhaps

as in a spy movie, someone 

would deftly swap cases with me.

What would I get in exchange 

for my case of nirvana? And to what

secret vault would it go – hidden forever, 

or used to change the world?

The title is stolen from Rajani Radhakrishnan's poem A case of nirvana under a Ficus Mysorensis which is far more brilliant, beautiful and profound than this, and which I love in many ways. While I couldn't resist going off on this silly little tangent, and also must ethically acknowledge my source, I certainly don't wish to detract from the message of that source. Therefore you should please regard them as entirely separate, not to be compared in any way – and also go and absorb Rajani's wise and wonderful writing. (PS  She has seen this and it amused her.)

Sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #205.