I WONDER HOW?
I WONDER WHY?
ENTER INTO MY WORLD
WHILST YET THERE ARE WORDS;
EACH WORD IS A WORLD
AS YET YOU MAY SEE
WHICH OPENS UP THE WIDER LAND
OF OPPORTUNITY.
I COME TO SPEAK OF VISION
OF THINGS WHICH WORDS DESCRIBE,
FOR WHAT ARE WORDS BUT BRUSH STROKES
ON THE CANVAS OF THE MIND.
POESY OR POETRY
LANDSCAPES WIDE TO PAINT,
I KNOW NOT HOW TO USE THEM WELL
NOR SEE WITH ARTISTS EYE,
BUT A VISION SPLENDID NOW I SEE AS ART
IT UNRAVELS IN MY MIND,
NOT AS NAKED DIRT TO PAINT
BUT AS THE MIRROR OF MY HEART.
THERE WHERE SITS THE BUDDHA GRAND
A MAN OF SOME RENOWN,
WHO SHED HIS NEED FOR EARTHLY LIFE
AND ENLIGHTENED ALL THE LAND.
HE FOUND HIS PLACE WITHIN THE MIND
WHERE WORDS ARE NO DISGRACE,
AND IT’S OBVIOUS HE USED HIS BRAINS
TO PAINT HIS WORLD,
‘CAUSE IT’S WRITTEN ON HIS FACE.
