Don’t play with Trees
Nor, the billowing Breeze,
You can’t do, O silly Man
Wantonly, what you please.

You think you are some kind of man giant
When, no more than a silly two-legged pant,
Your brain anywhere, top to bottom, mostly middle
And, all you can do is rave and rant.

The Circus suits you best of all
The trapeze there for you to fall
For, once you start swinging around
Your tiny brain thinks, you’re mighty tall.

The Ant that crawls is much like you
It has the brain, the heart, and all else too
But, it’s grounded all the time, sensibly
While you, a stupid lover of the skies blue

When, you can see them and the stars as well
From the ground and always tell
When, for example,  it’s going to drizzle
And, where the shooting star came and fell.

The Centipede has a hundred legs, they say
But, prefers the ground to the Milky Way,
A slow and careful, measured walk
While you, jet around in complete disarray.

You think you are then nearer the stars
When, in your rockets you spend your hours,
Then waste your time on Mother Earth
Playing golf, looking for those, elusive pars.

Life for you is about Mammon and no more
Your network all from shore to shore,
Your net worth too all piled up, somewhere
Pieces of paper, maybe “bits” galore,

What then, will you take with you
You have choices many, many to rue,
That Angel or Devil likes empty hands
No baggages to carry, that is the clue .

Of no consequence are you in the Cosmos
The scheme of things where the Lord’s the boss,
If you’re bent on simply destroying yourself
There is no profit, life a total loss.

Don’t get fooled by visions, sermons of eternity
No preacher, teacher, philosopher, will help you see
That other world beyond the skies, below the earth
Both Heaven and Hell are, somewhat, illusory.

On the road to nowhere, then
Is the stern face of Reality,
All up in the air, somewhere
As is the mirage of Eternity.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)