My son, whose brief but popular career as a nightclub comic, once told me that his formula for creating stand-up jokes was one he learned from others of his ilk. His method: make a ridiculous statement; then prove it. Hmm;
I am not thinking of a white rhinoceros. I know this because I am saddled to an elephant hippety- hopping hither and yon. (If this isn’t funny perhaps it ‘s because I am not standing up. Try hippety hopping astride an elephant some time…or atop a white rhinoceros.)
To love is to Heal.
To accept Love is to Be Healed.
Healing begins when Fear is vanquished.
(Perhaps it is the other way around.)
Fear returns to the shadows and birds begin to chirp.
Fear becomes itself at first light.
The Light of Love is felt with the decision to Accept.
Acceptance lights the Path.
The Path is Today.
This is the way,
To be Healed.
Love becomes the Lover.
And Fear becomes a fading memory.
When birds fly, when ants forage, when religions are born, when governments collapse, there is a principle involved; it has nothing to do with education, intelligence, with social history or for that matter, any noticeable measure of sanity. It is present in all group activity. It requires only the most basic instinctual fragment of decision-making. The leader of the pack “says” North, South, East or West. The pack members notice only the constituent to the left or the right and follow the observed movements. With starlings it is called murmeration. With cattle it is hanging out with the herd. With bees it is buzzin’ aroun’with yer buddies and with people it is the nod of a hundred heads to the command “Let’s get’er done.”
HOW MANY WORDS RHYME WITH MORRIS?
How many millions are in a trillion?
How many leaves in a forest?
How many souls exist in forever?
How many came before us?
Where is it written? Where are the answers?
Where is the heavenly Chorus?
When did the Big Bang Beget the beginning?
Is the answer there before us?
What if I told you I knew all along?
What if you held a Thesaurus?
A new interrogative might have an answer
Or perhaps it would simply bore us.
And so to the friend who
Inspired this ode
And helped me to stick
To the write of the road
I dedicate this to Morris
Thank you for your patience.
Lee is recovering from a sever anaphylactic reaction to peanuts. Keep a good thought.
I’m not a judge; I’m a scribe
A scribe’s job is to scribble
A good reporter I must be
Never must I quibble;
Never may I spill the ink
Never should I dribble
Little opts and fancies,
ne’er to be a fable
Say what I see,
(forget what I hear),
gotta keep it straight
‘cause time is dear
And never, must I Fibble.