Ashes Don’t Burn

You know, I see

Hope floating like leaves on the breeze;

Smiles glinting like defiant stars,

In the unforgiving glare of the Sun;

The fat man who wants to swallow the world,

The little man who wants to grind it to dust,

The angel with wings that shred your heart,

The unshaven, ugly man with a toy in his coat.

And I see your desire spread like the sky,

Inviting me to spread my wings and fly,

To drift like the empty grey clouds,

Till your heart arches into a beautiful rainbow.

But darling, trees they grow big,

And their leaves hide a deep, dark mystery,

But they die, and their branches are burned,

And fire doesn’t ever grow on the ashes.



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I have always been a great believer. I've flitted from one belief to another, from religion to atheism and from one philosophy to another, until I finally settled on J. Krishnamurti whose philosophy is that there is no philosophy. So now I firmly believe that there is nothing to believe. Now such a belief would, I believe, have been considered dangerous to society if the authorities had believed me to be of any consequence. No man of consequence they believe would waste his time on the pursuit of blogging!

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