By Anonymous

Sometimes I sit alone for a while,
Watching life go by,
Sitting high on a mountain top,
Wondering just why
Those ant-sized lives don’t pause and wonder
“What’s this busyness for?”
They never look at ground and ask
“Why go on one day more?”
Is life itself a fleeting dream?
Windy words without sense
A breeze that floats through lofty trees,
Whispers like incense.

I stop my mind from all of its
Wandering around,
Meandering, constant babbling,
I work to stop the sound,
To quiet down my monkey mind,
Which lets me look within
And sit there in a silent peace
Without the sound of sin.

For joy springs forth eternal from this
Wide yet hidden place:
Whence from a stream of steady silence
Wheels through every space.

 

 


Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.