The Shroud

We all see life

Through a tawdry torn curtain

We can not see what is in front of us

Those with clear vision

Have left us forlorn

            and long ago

There were three or four

That have left us gifts

But they as precious missives

 have been left unopened

 and unread

And if read

            Misunderstood

Mumbled jumbled fumbled

            by cloth and collar

            by robes black

and souls blacker

By thieves, cheats and liars

The dissemblers of love and life

Can’t anyone see

There are just too many of us

Far too many for our mother to suckle

What I speak of is truth

They have told me

            And I listened

Those with great wisdom

Have forbidden the mention of His name

And I will not blaspheme

Suffice to say “it is written!”

Mene

Mene

Tekle

Upharsin

One need only to go deep down

 to the cellar of the mind

 to chat with Santayana

And see the writing on the wall

 

Frogs, toads and loads of excrement

Is it that bad?

And His reply

Yes

 

HE Says:

It is not a Faith that causes man to stray

Not any one Faith will do that

But, without wisdom and vision we will be led astray

Like a blind man

            by those who lead

            falsely by claim

Each Faith is true

As he is true to the heart recognized

And known by the honest man

Rumi and others have told of this

And so do I

What I speak is truth

To be remembered as a searcher

I drink the waters of the Holy Nile

And let all good prophets guide me

For like Diogenes

I will Search

Forever…

Asta Dido