A SILLY FABLE
I'd like to tell a fable
Of a man who
Bore the label
Of a great GURU.
He sat in silence
The whole day through.
An act of violence
He never knew.
Folks would flock
From many miles hence
Just to gawk
At His Eminence.
They'd bring gifts galore
As recompense
For all the lore
He would dispense.
But he never spoke--
This thoughtful sage,
Though, to common folk,
He was all the rage.
A point of a finger
Would earn his wage,
And urge those who linger,
Their feet, to engage.
As each went forth
In the appointed direction,
Some went north
To find protection.
Others went west
And found affection.
All the rest
Found their lives near perfection.
So spread the fame
Of the silent GURU.
All would claim
That he always knew.
Your goal in life
He would show you to,
And, in times of strife,
He'd show you through.
So, what was the secret
Of this silent man
Who never worried of debt
And always had a plan,
Who sat all day
On a comfy divan
And always knew the way
To direct each fan?
The cause of his silence?--
He was a deaf mute.
His method of guidance
Was really quite cute.
Since he never heard
Each reported dispute,
He would point, without a word,
To where he wanted all his loot.
But each guest
Would find, in that finger,
The answer to his quest,
And so, would not linger;
Would strive, day and night,
And, even if a beginner,
Would not give up the fight
Until he was a winner.
So we see that the GURU
Who really pointed the way
Was within me and you
And still is 'til this day.
If we wish to know
The part we are to play,
We look within, and go,
And don't even have to pay.
Copyright 2012 by George McNeish
If you want permission to use this poem please contact the poet at george@sowingpeace.ca
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