AVANT SOUL

Joy has evaporated and left a heavy gruel

Shall I tell you of immortality 
	and how soon we reach the grave?

Shall I tell you of money saved 
	and moments missed?

Shall I tell you 
of days crammed,
Of days damned
Of days so full of tasks

That the inner child asks, "Are such packed hours the mark of the brave,
			       or desperate acts of a fool?"

Seems we are asked to undertake more 
Than any hero could fulfill

We feel obliged to overload the hours
Although they make us ill. 

Shall I tell you of continents of people 
Who cannot draw the line
	to activities on overload, 
	and are too rushed for time?

And can I ever ably convince your will
That neither towering 
Sequoia nor babbling
Brook shall ever remind the deadening success
of relentless overtime by restless minds?

					There's music in the silence
					There's nectar in emptiness
					There's honey in the spaces left unfilled,
					Wisdom for the fool who doesn't follow

						The masses toiling to make ends meet, 
							to pay the interest on their bills.
When we touch on the truth and the infinite, 
There's a little chord that resonates.

	  It may not be a large chord, or a loud one

Yet, you feel it to the core.     
It's your center, disregarded completely	
Or embraced in sunlight on the fulcrum of the highway,
Music to let heavy burdens be placed behind,
						  to unwind.

The end is in sight, the coffin's wrinkled face 
Reminding 
That 
You canceled laughter and paid a frown
Rather than placed upon your head the dunce's hat, 
			
	     and embraced

Unanswered riddles of laugh lines.

					Shall I tell you I have no answers,
					Save for one simple fact
That those who breathe with the passing hours
Relinquish their needs from the taskmaster's ax. 

Activities will never ever be finished.
Projects can never ever be complete.

The wise fool leaves self-importance 
	at the door of eternity, maintaining joy 
		   and orgasmic enthusiasm,

	Replete 
		with inappropriate hoots and yelps	
		and unrestrained laughter

T h e   w i s e   f o o l   b e y o n d   f o r e v e r   e x u l t a n t l y   d w e l l s.


The wise fool, 

		 beyond forever, 

				           exultantly 
						  	 dwells.