Of the Incurable

Everything that is composed
Is perishable, Buddha
Said at the end of his life,
Adding, work diligently
For your salvation. That's odd,
One truculent disciple
Thought without speaking aloud.

What salvation could there be
Not also perishable?
Or, there being salvation,
How is all perishable?
What makes for faith is failure,
Either of diagnosis
Of the curable, or cure . . .