2016 11 09
While standing dizzy on the mountain top
I lower gaze from blazing sphere of light
and peer through mist at city maze of streets
where people run in circles to survive.
All mortal kings and queens in flow of time
who play grand role to rule on chair of power
appear and disappear in waves of change
that swirl around unmoving rock of truth.
When rival gangs of nations clash in swirl
of fierce contentious game for who will rule,
I exit clanging gates from crowded streets
and climb the mountain high to peaceful grove.
Each man who claims to play as social god
is no more divine soul than you and me,
but every tribe must choose one man to play
grand role of god who judges right from wrong.
Though bards of every nation over time
recount the names and deeds of long-dead kings,
we shake our heads amused to realize
their bodies vanish lost in swirling dust.
I sit with Epicurus in calm peace,
in lush garden beneath the apple tree,
and dream about the lives of mortal kings
while children play on shore of sparkling stream.