Well at last, once again it's a Friday, the great capper for this past shortened work week and time for another poem for my dear readers! Enjoy!Young Buddha-For Steven Escoffery
I fell in love with the man and his ice cream cone
I felt my fate tested
Blessed faith restored
He got through my darkness
Knocked me off my trembling feet
The expulsion of truth,
Somewhere trouble don’t go
Where to fit in would fit out
Ain’t what he’s all about
Like the boys in norman rockwell
Painted all pretty and gay
The machines are off and running
Never made it up as I went along
Took weeks and weeks of practice
Before I was able to write a song
To the beat of meditation
Playing with empty orchestra
The heartfelt composer, waving baton
Leading zen-monk ghosts
In 4/4 time of “1-2-3,” “1-2’3.”
He wants him to hear the composition with out fear
Of failing to please his master
For whom the bell tolls
Inside the heart he was given at birth
Young buddha sits beside him
Praying for time to practice his skill
Deepened enlightenment
Weeping heavy rain
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