The Beggar, the Undertaker and the Children

Well, the knock it came at a quarter to four,
Once, twice, three times on the big wooden door;
“Please give me something, preferably meat,
Nobody wants to starve, everybody wants to eat.”

The undertaker, grumbling, shifted his weight,
His stomach still rumbling from all that he ate;
“The sad truth it is, I’ve nothing to give,
Nobody wants to die, everybody wants to live!”

The beggar he shook his old grey head,
Saying, “Strong apple cider will do instead.
If business is bad,” he said with a wink,
“Nobody need be thirsty, everybody needs to drink.”

The undertaker scoffed, plainly vexed;
“Goodness gracious, what will it be next?
You come to my door this time every day,
To eat and to drink but you don’t want to pay!”

The beggar he turned and walked away,
And his tears became pearls with the light of the day.
Said the children that found them, there where they lay…
“Nobody wants the pearls, they’re throwing them away!”

The Mirror of God

God created soul
and then threw away
the mould

uncovering the secret way
soul has of being
with the mystery

the mirror of God
reflects the exact likeness
of that which we are

a single conscious
act of love, moves
the heavens up above

soul needs God, but God
needs soul too, and is constantly
calling it home

The Narcissist

The narcissist sits in his ivory tower,
Tending by night the rarest of flowers;
Fools fain to believe that the fates will permit,
And pass unnoticed, the crimes they commit,
Even as day approaches by the minute and hour!

This is in reply to the first few posts  in this thread from AHH;

God can never be found
in the high and low,
but in the here and now

Marimba solo; Michael Askill, “Omphalo Centric Lecture”

From Nigel Westlake; Onamatopoeia

The Wisdom of No Thing

man’s outer deeds
betray that which is hidden
within his heart

the vain seek mirrors;
the generous seek the beggars
and the lowly

O’ you who’ve made your home
the brackish spring, repent that the
ocean may reappear!

walking a mile in
another’s moccasins; laying down
my sword and shroud

the wisdom of no thing;
no longer a slave
to cause and effect

Silence is Gold

You used to carry a beggar’s bowl,
Living off crumbs down in a hole;
Looking for something that cannot be told,
Words are silver, but silence is gold.

You used to carry a calligrapher’s brush,
Elegance adorned the palace so lush;
The king would come by with his questions so bold,
Words are silver, but silence is gold.

You used to carry a sword of steel,
With matching armour from head to heel;
Despatching enemies when secrets were sold,
Words are silver, but silence is gold.

You used to carry a wound so deep,
By day and by night you’d tremble and weep;
Some burdens you share, but others you keep,
Words are silver, but silence is gold.

You used to carry a beggar’s bowl;
Speaking in tongues, wearing blindfolds.
Till the day you finally came in from the cold…
Words may be silver, but silence is gold!