lost in the land
where the grass is always greener
on the other side
they wander about,
plucking at this and at that,
never satisfied
the next will taste better
the herbs they select will be sweeter
the sun will reveal all the last light belied
to sit in a field ,
under one tree
and see how it changes,
how day becomes slowly night,
would bring a more lasting delight
through sunsets and dawns.
cold winds may blow and the sun grow hot
there may be storms,
and the leaves will fall.
without sun and rain there’s no rainbow
the pot of gold is right here
The Dreaming Path 