Do not worry about your life,
Or what you will eat,
Or what you will drink,
Or about your body,
Or what you will wear.
Is life not more than food?
And the body more than clothes?

Look at the birds of the air.
They do not plant or harvest or store away in barns,
And yet they never lack anything to eat.
Are you not much more valuable than they?

Can you add a single hour to your life by worrying?

And why do you worry about clothes?
Look at the sunset in the sky,
It does not work or mend,
Yet not even the finest apparel can match its beauty.

If that’s how the sky is painted,
Which is here a moment and is lost to time in the next,
Will you not be clothed in even greater majesty?
You who cannot even see past the horizon?

So do not worry about:
What you will eat,
Or what you will drink,
Or what you will wear.
For men run after all these things,
And get lost in greed and emptiness.

But instead seek first:
Truth;
And Love;
And the Well Being of others.
Then you will never be lacking in anything you need.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,
For tomorrow will worry about itself.
For each day has enough trouble of its own.

.
There was a time
when a poet was the bane,
a thorn in the side of fathers,
seeking to protect their starry eyed daughters,
to keep their virtue intact and pure,
from the menace of romantic verse,
and the lure of a handsome wordsmith.

There was a time
women would queue to be his muse,
pray to be the next broken hearted tragedy,
in rhymes penned by his stroking fingers,
the fulcrum of an adventure in love,
to fulfil their private fantasies of destiny,
being the plaything of word woven desire.

There was a time
ladies in lace and fur and of status
raided accounts of rich and flaccid husbands,
to bestow favour and gifts,
upon the man who turned them on,
with *** for their lust starved bodies
and soft words for sensitive emotional need.

There was a time
and now its has long gone,
the poet barely catches a beautiful muse,
hardly ever breaks a heart,
nor seduces a benefactors second glance,
leading her to book and bed,
as the world offers her distractions new.



© Pagan Paul (25/04/18)