In an airport waiting for flight,
surrounded by others also waiting for flight,
none of us present in the vast glass and steel sprawl,
all of us already on to elsewhere,
I saw a young man who did not look the part,
sitting stone settled and still in his suit and blue tie,
a Tibetan monk of a man on a Himalayan hill,
upright and alert, exuding tranquility
among the anxious elsewhere people.
He is going nowhere before his time.
With all of his composure and intent,
he remained in the bent elbow of time,
vigilant between what was and will be.
written in LAX
December/2019