Stories after a bath after a long day- and tire of it? Never, joyfully
The stories we read fill the years full of power, joyfully.
What can a child think of the newness of reading?
Inability to travel, gone, you learn each letter, joyfully.
Questions emerge like where did the ball go from the monkey’s hand.
I answer each question, each a cherished treasure, joyfully.
A book to you is a teacher and a friend. They’ll keep you warm in the cold.
You can draw on them for life’s purpose, guidance, heaven forever, joyfully.
I try to tell you this by reading about shapes, numbers, and science.
I pray and pray for blessings on you- for wonder after wonder, joyfully.
When these years have all passed by, what will be left of them?
Memories built from your heart’s first tremor, joyfully.
The Eternal Book
In an opium-filled place in my mind I can perceive the Book.
Longing the intoxicant in my desire to seize the Book.
All the wisdom of the stars and the unfolding galaxies resides there.
Those Immortal Truths guide the angels who live and breathe the Book.
Life on earth always will be like Becker’s truth: immortality and defecation.
For lost meaning we cannot see in life, adrift, we should grieve the Book.
In limp reflected images gleam the light of a signal, a beacon, the moon.
Bible Quran Torah Dhammaphada: all teach the same principles. So we believe the Book.
All people on earth are Sarah’s teachers! They excel in grace.
Oh Perfect Friend, may my deeds shine like the truths that interweave the Book.