Perfect thanks

There are great poets in our midst.
Men who never know to read,
Women who hardly speak.
Wanderers who have learned to breathe.
Children silenced by fears of the mind.
Wise men silenced by tears of joy.

A billionaire in New York would give away all his
fortune in exchange for writing a discourse on philosophy that
would last a thousand years.

What are we seeking?
Rags or riches?
Light or crude powers?

There, I see going before me: Whitman and Vyasa.
And Lao Tzu and Krishnamurti in silent communion on the mountain pass.
In the valley, testing the scents of spring are Keats and Emerson.
Rumi and Hafiz are in the kitchen preparing a lunch for fools.
Love abounding from their hearts...
Baudelaire and Kabir embrace; at a loss for words in the infinite sea.
There is Lincoln. Indomitable. Einstein - eyes wide open.
And Nathamuni chanting eterntal chords as Buddha counts his prayer beads.
A string of pearls.
A string of AUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMs.
They all stand alone.
They all secretly, offer perfect thanks.

There is the kid on the corner selling photocopies, in India.
Above the dust and speed of the street.
There is the old man on the train in Korea; walking cane in hand, tapping his feet.
There is the dairy maid in Aberdeen eying the boys on her shift.
There is Jesus in heaven watching everything.
There are you and I as distant strangers yet to remember our blazing familiarity.

Have you planted the seed of the great tree that is yourself?
Has the sapling of your younger years outgrown the briars and the bracken?
Are your shoots still green?
Have you drank of the rain and the wind today?
Have you left all comparison behind?
Put another way: "Are you smiling?"

What is your contribution?
What does your gratefulness
share with you in the cool, whispered night?

About me

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Mind is the closest thing to our Reality...Be careful how you use it. Businessman, yogi, teacher, addicted to laughing...