All those books
All that reading

All those fights
All that pleading

Now my car breaks down
Poverty I know

In the Carolina sun
I miss Seattle snow

Race haunts America
Like an undead ghost

Dublin is the town
I ate the holy host

Do you think they still believe
In the metympsychose?

She wished me abundant joy
But I am a depressive

My letter and my boys
Are my soul confessive

I'd like to have a purpose
But life is drift and roll

No way to stop the time
Or make the fragments whole

Fame comes to some
They become a name

Others know the Silent night
Know not why they came

I'm tired and I'm lonely
I miss my darling sons

Life is suffering
Shakyamuni, I'm not yet done

Teachers teach
Professors profess

Priests sacrifice
Sinners confess

America lost
In the Wilderness

The country is
A racist mess

All alone
Again I guess

Something shamanic in Frodo
Wandering in the woods

Speaking with strange elves
Battle of evil against good

Dreaming of foreign lands
Wondering if he could

Has to leave the Shire
Gandalf says he should

Strider in the Prancing Pony
Hidden by a hood

Now I'm fully 51
But then: my childhood.

Oxford twilight, Dreaming spires
Ancient things: Friends and fires
Gandalf the White

                         still suspires

I deeply wished to see Angkor Wat
Was willing to do what it takes

The lesson that I learned?
How not to be afraid of Snakes

Mr. Miyagi teaches Daniel-san
Paint the fence; Sand the floor

Buddhist monks learn
By carefully opening doors

I took the train to Kyoto
Zen temples galore

And remember the modern station
Rieko gave us more

Arigato, land of wonders,
Sophia on your shore