Buddhism: Lies, Lies, Lies

What I love about Buddhism: that Buddhists would not see this poem, by the 19th-century haiku poet Masaoka Shiki, as an insult or challenge to their beliefs. In many ways, it's precisely the point (insofar as there is such a thing as a "point" in Buddhism...):

Autumn wind:

gods, Buddha—

lies, lies, lies.

I'm not sure if this poem acts as a koan to the Buddhist, or if this would be considered commonplace. But for someone like me—who abandoned the capital-T truth of Christianity and flirted with the often smug ideals of the Enlightenment—this is a mind-blower.

I have a friend, one of those guys who finds elements of truth in all religions, who says that I would be happy as a Buddhist. I doubt it. But the Universe paused when I read this poem—the closest thing, aside from moments watching my kids sleep, that I've felt to "spiritual" in a long time.

(Side note: see Don DeLillo's White Noise (toward the end of Chapter 21) for a brilliant description of the near-spirituality of watching your kids sleep...)