by Brian Quinn
A wise-man was seated in silent prayer,
When a stranger came by and rested there.
The stranger was haggard and his clothes were all torn,
And he spoke to the wise-man in a voice all forlorn.
"Which road do I take to get serene above all,
For wherever I go I hit splat into a wall?"
The wise-man smiled, easing the stranger's load,
And he pointed his finger down a narrow, twisting road.,
So the stranger set off and his gait was quite light,
But he returned pretty soon and he looked a worse sight.
"That road I went down I didn't like it at all,
For after a while I went splat into a wall.
"I really want a path that will give me some peace,
Where my fears will go free and my tensions will cease.
The stranger pleaded some more, his voice was disjointed,
But down the same road the wise-man again pointed.
The stranger set off, though he looked full of doubt,
And after a while he returned with a shout.
"How come you sent me down that same twisting road?
Can't you see I am tired and I don't want this load?"
The wise-man spoke in a voice that was keen,
"I thought you were searching for a life that's serene?"
The stranger exclaimed, "Yes, I really want that!"
"Then," the wise-man said softly, "You must go through the splat."