The Bud
A bud begins to open,The clouds are in the sky
The morning dew is on the thorns
They feel a joy, but why;
A breeze responds in answer
caressing every leaf,
the bud enjoys the dance today
but mind looks for a thief;
The thief speaks first as always
the lime light shines on him,
he sees no beauty dancing,
to him such things are dim;
A flower should not grow here,
my thorns expect the worst,
protect myself from what I see
this world is but my curse;
The world is out to kill me,
to chop me up to hell,
my thorns will grow to get them,
for defence I know it well;
A grasshopper comes hopping,
it lands below the bud,
the stem bends gently forward
on a plant that grows in mud;
How wonderful a union,
a moment out of time,
when life does join as Oneness,
the point that is Divine;
The sun warms all the surface,
the bud it opens up,
a beauty opens to the son,
the mind has been shut up.
Sela