THE POT OF GOLD, YOU KNOW
Cooky, she's off to lay somewhere
But I didn't see her
Its when everything goes quiet, even the other explorers
They creep in silent walk
That's when I know when Cooky's off
And where did she, where is she?
Well just when I think I have awareness
She just disappears on me
Out of sight like a ship in the night
In settle to lay somewhere
In the nettle, in the bramble, in the bracken fern,
I wait, I wait, I wait
And yes, it is the hardest thing
But to look, in which direction
Should I concern myself,
Of mindless intervention
While I know I have to absorb most
And most often, in every second
Without a moments waver
Forever, yes as if forever
To be here, in wait
Without choice or favour
Or to weigh heavy, as the way Cooky
Disappeared, it was as if somewhere over Bermuda
Not to be any further than just here
That is how I will find the clutch,
Of Cooky's kind hearted lay
As when she went, I am sure she knew
There was not one iota's eye.
As a boy, I, with all weight of puberty
And all social matters, I was shy
Without option of choice,
As I never much liked parties
Because in reservation of speech
It always felt too deep, as water overhead
And shy embarrassment, huh, that self conscious
But yes, a saviour in a way
Because it is a sign of that unconditional sensitivity
The divorce of life from ego and me.
I never used to parade in school balls
I guess in a way I was more to do with
My own thoughts, feelings and emotions
Maybe I just wanted to talk about them,
To discuss them, but like the well in a very hot summer
All was dry, all I heard was my own echo.
Why, why, why,
As they say that sort of communication
It is ahead of one's time
And maybe still is, or the next revolution, to reel in,
To find solace and solution, just to be in wait
Of Cooky's return, in contentment of one's own company,
And the other hens', as they too know, when Cooky's gone.
As what's important now, right now,
But to be outside these great walls of self illusion
To catch and hold bright stars in the palm
To stop the sun, for just one
To run warm daisy's along the arm,
To anaesthetise some,
To hum and be the summer cloud that puffs
Endless surrendered kisses
To bring the joy of life, upon the highest chakras ...
You see, it takes time to know one's soul
Let alone someone else's
Because soul is universe, soul is the extraordinary,
Soul is the one that has courage and that people look up to
Because, there they can go their own way.
Soul is fortitude, soul is this unconditional love
That says, whatever happens, I know that I have
had this feeling.
I can still close my eyes and go away,
Maybe it is where I wish to stay, to be more
And to live in many worlds, in awareness,
It is what stops the heart and breath,
As I have no regret, as regret is never part of soul's plan
Because, in consideration, of others' and one's own higher being
Life is lived and done
By souls command, by the moment's hand that is softly taken
To drift wherever, free as a bird high upon.
I do not live by what others have done
For that I cannot change or alter
I am only concerned with one, in speech and action
That is all, that is all I require to consider
With due respect and inner protection.
I have learnt to accept all things that have gone well
And gone not so well, for in everything there is a purpose and reason
The signs of ones destiny, noticed in the exposure of awareness.
I take nothing for granted, for it then transfers to mundane habit.
All is seen for the very first time, every sunrise, every sunset,
Every leaf on every tree that whisper to me, Hello.
I walk light with my soul on the surface
But only to those whom I can trust and have faith in and who deserve
This pristine quality of life, otherwise it is lonely, if not for fortitude and grace.
For it is not right to call those who do not listen or hear, worthy of closeness
Or to share; for sensitivity comes to greet, in a sort of fairy attitude, free,
Without care of attachment. But just to be here, there, or anywhere, without
Motion, or movement.
Maybe, one day all will see the way, I see, or have seen, in awake, deep sleep or dream, the way I do, as it is.
Cooky, I see her emerge from under and along a track, so now I can find her clutch of eggs, and hold them. And why, because I sat in silent patience without chase
As, like a rainbow, it is the pot of gold you know.