Ode To A Bird

Winged traveler of life,
Painting clouds on the sky,
Riding the horses of wind
How high can you fly?
Not more than can I
With the arrows of my mind
I travel to more distant skies
Than you can ever find.
But happiness, ah that’s another thing-
Do you find it in your flight?
Or do you find that sorrow lurks
In the shadow of the light?
I fear you are led on
By a passion that’s unconfined
By the murky paths that unfold
To my clearly reasoning mind.
You think not of anything but
The lash of wind to lift you high
And not seeking any more joy
Your path does not through unhappiness lie.


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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