The Last Bus

‘The answers are within you’,
is not a phrase
you often overhear
in the street
as you hurry along in town.

The rain was pouring down.
It was sudden.
People rushed into doorways
avoiding hail.
The pavements were pooling.
Gutters glugged.

‘Your ability to influence the world
may be greater than you think.’

I turned to see who was speaking.
Someone looked at me.
I shrugged.
I hadn’t said a word.
I realised
someone else had heard.

‘That girl Tracy makes me sick,
acting innocent. I told her
if i see her again, I’ll mark her’

Now we are back to normal.
And here comes the last bus.

 

No Answers

what makes the sun hot and ice cold?
what makes the glow in the embers of fire?
why does the river twinkle and dazzle?
where does time come from that
turns slowly, yet passes so quickly?
how does sunset and beauty bring peace?

wood smoke contents me, raindrops refresh,
moonlight entrances, the stars make me dream.
Though I’m so small in the great scheme of things
a change in the wind from the south can inspire me,
a wind from the north stiffens resolve,
sunlight dancing through branches
lifts my heart like a bird in the morning,
the daisy that shines in the grass makes me smile
but when will I learn to be more aware?
What is the source, the centre, the fount?
Why do scientists and priests think they know
when all of their answers belittle the truth?
How does the world so touch my heart
that I can be lifted from sadness and sorrow
to joy in a moment? What makes life?

The essence, the glory, the blessing is
that I feel and see all these astonishing things,
yet will never know the answers at all.