Skip to main content

The Sunset Today




The sun set today just as it did yesterday
And just as I am sure it will set tomorrow

When the sun rose this morning
I was on my morning walk and I stopped

To talk with a white bearded old man
Who was combing his beard like it still

Mattered how his beard looked and he
Told me the story how his social security

Check only covered food and he chose
To live out of a locker rather then pay rent

In this town which he can’t afford the rent
And still eat but he was ok with that because

That’s just the way it is and I think of
The Gospel of Thomas were Jesus says

The Kingdom Of God is laid out on Earth
But people just don’t see it and I realized

That the same morning sun
Warming him to comb his beard

Is the same sun that sent me on my walk
And it is the same evening sun that would set

On me in my warm bed and this gentle
Old man in an alley where he feels safe





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

American Tea

The time honored tradition of English tea, So unlike American morning coffee, Always in a mug—to start the day.   English tea is in the afternoon— More like the Japanese tea ceremony To give a ritual presence to life.   The saucer so important to balance the cup. Americans find the saucer a nuisance. It’s what is in the cup that matters.   Even the English drink coffee in the morning, American tea is at lunch—and iced— Ritual presence not forgotten—just ignored   Americans drink tea in mugs. Mugs don’t need saucers.  

Pick Up Truck

Decades ago riding, in the back of a pick-up truck, My good buddy Rick and I were talking philosophy, Truth and Counter-truth I told him—waddya mean? Life is both real and an illusion--particle-wave duality We are flesh and we are spirit—50 years later, my flesh Has lower back pain and sciatica but the spirit still loves Riding in the back of pick-up trucks—which is now illegal

Buddha Socks

Buddha Socks Days do not number The miss-steps of my soul’s journey Years and decades of seeking and searching Lost and looking—occasionally knowing Only for a moment with certainty Before the trance of daily life and doing the laundry Overshadow insights that would unlock The mystery of socks tumbling in the dryer Socks don’t know emotions— They just know our feet. They wrap our heels and toes unconditionally Paying no attention to the emotions of the moment The funeral, the wedding, another day at work— The socks are just there for us After a day of being very human We take them off and toss them into the laundry Perhaps socks Are the Buddha (I don’t know the original dates on this.   It is actually two separate poems which I found in old journals and merged into one poem   I luv it…)