Up late at night we talked of God and cigs
He often made me tea, I gave him figs.
He's gone from his world now with no goodbye
I don't begrudge him that despite my cry
Of pain at losing Ban the Buddhist monk
Whose friendship knew no bounds, my dharma punk.
I hope that his beliefs are just unerring
And he transcended, no more journeying
This world with sufi stick, musing with mirth
The misery that is the planet Earth.
So now I bid goodbye to that soft man
This poem ends too soon, and so did Ban.
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