The sky knows no bounds for the heavenly lark
The grass never wilts when you walk through the park
But joy has no place
Until sorrow you taste
For you can’t see the light till you’ve stood in the dark

There’s a darkness that’s blacker than coal
But it isn’t enlightenment’s goal
To escape from the night
Or to bathe it in light
But to use it and make yourself whole

There once was a club swinging Swede
Determined to pillage and breed
But sweet miss O’conner
Defended her honor
Refusing to welcome his seed

There once was a red-bearded Viking
To the emerald land he went hiking
And trying to be wily
Snuck up Miss Reilly
But his salmon was not to her liking

There’s a viking name Erik the Erring
On a voyage he lost all his bearing
Instead of New York
He landed in Cork
And alone he became hard of herring

Meditation’s a method for clearing the air
A portable practice to take anywhere
So quiet your thoughts
And all you’ve been taught
Just breathe in the light and dissolve into prayer

The current of life always flowing
The river remains, the water keeps going
Escapes from your hand
Turning rocks into sand
Its secret is something worth knowing

Successors of Solomon, wiser than wise
Guided by motions of stars in the skies
               Restoring our powers
               Through forests and flowers
With spells on our lips and a gleam in our eyes

When judging the tree by its fruits
The bamboo proponent imputes
             That this grass’s great power
             Lies not with its flower
But deep in its rhizomes and roots

When ego gets hold of your mind
Then the notion of self is confined
To a tight narrow cell
And forgotten how well
Every sentient thing is entwined