By Don Blanding
I think and I think and I think that I think
While the little wheels whirr and the little lights blink;
There’s a rattle, a humming, a rustle, a roar
And what do I get? What I got just before,
Some more thoughts that I think … about doodles and dancers,
So I think some more thoughts that I think are the answers,
But the answers breed questions … they’re fertile as rabbits,
And all that I get is a pain in my thinker.
So let me be still … oh, as still as a rock,
While I hear my heart beat like the click of a clock
And feel the blood flow like the pulse of the tide,
Then, I find that the answers are all waiting … inside.
Not words, noisy words, but a luminous glowing
The light in the shrine of the stillness of knowing.
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