The Path to Liberation

They say the path to liberation

Leads through valleys of utter despair

And over peaks of glorious wonder.

If you risk the journey, beware.

Our thoughts don't always reflect reality;

To us an idea that clearly seems

So real and permanent is really ephemeral

And creatively sculpted from notions and dreams.

  

Such thoughts can tantalize or torment us,

Depending on our state of mind

Or how attached we are to ideas

And concepts that we've proudly enshrined.

That which lasts--that which endures--

Remains utterly beyond our ken.

If we are lucky, flashes of awareness

Illuminate us now and then.

Are our questions superficial,

Or do they sink beneath our skin

To penetrate our bones and marrow

And deeply resonate therein?

Gratitude flows from every pore

As we glide along on a goalless goal.

An inner calm pervades our being

When we release the illusion of control.

We catch a glimpse of truly knowing.

Clouds of doubt that blocked the light

Shift, and we are bathed in the radiance

Of something inconceivably bright.

Part of us dies, but something's reborn.

We see through Illusions, passions, and lies.

Divested of our strong attachments,

We see the world through different eyes.

The path we've sought is under our feet;

There's nothing mysterious--nothing arcane.

We lose our selves and find ourselves,

And we find that there's nothing we need to attain.

(1-12-15) By Bob B

Solidarity

For years workers fought

For safe working conditions

Despite ruthless resistance

And uncaring politicians.

The fight for reasonable hours

Of work was also a goal.

Workers developed a voice

Which gave them greater control.

The struggle for better wages--

One more of the workers' priorities--

Pitted many workers

Against unsupportive authorities.

Conscientious workers

United to produce

Laws that affected child labor

And protected us from abuse.

The diligence of American labor

Helped make our nation strong.

To deny workers their rights

Is not only thoughtless, it's wrong.

To extirpate rights of workers

Out of envy, disdain, or mistrust

Weakens the rights of the people

And sustains the cause of the unjust.

American workers deserve

To be honored and respected

And not to be tromped on like doormats

Or to be mistreated or neglected.

People are not objects

To be used and cast aside.

We all have our rights;

We also have our pride.

If we march united--

Together in solidarity--

We'll preserve our freedom

For now and for posterity.

By Bob B (1-9-15)

Granny in Her Four-Wheel Drive

Caught out in a deadly blizzard,

We thought the end was near.

Experiencing zero percent visibility

And insurmountable fear,

We pictured our helpless, frozen bodies--

Icicles à la mode--

When rescue vehicles finally found us

Next to a country road.

Having lost all sense of direction--
In total disorientation--

We considered all of our options

With mounting trepidation.

Suddenly two lights appeared

In our rear-view mirror.

What a sigh of relief we breathed

As a truck got nearer!

Try to stay calm. Do not panic.

Land sakes alive!

There she was to save the day:

Granny in her four-wheel drive.

Hank and June were expecting a child

During a storm one spring.

To make matters worse, Hank had been injured--

His arm was in a sling.

June said, "Oh, oh. Baby's comin',"

And Hank started to panic.

"The roads are flooded and the bridges are down!"

Cried the desperate mechanic.

"Besides, I couldn't drive the stick

In my current condition

Even if the roads were good.

What's that? An apparition?"

Through the rain-streaked window Hank

Could see some flashing lights.

Granny was there in her trusty truck,

Repeatedly flashing her brights.

Try to stay calm. Do not panic.

Land sakes alive!

There she was to save the day:

Granny in her four-wheel drive.

There's a legend on the prairie.

You hear it far and wide.

You can believe the story or not.

Whatever. You decide.

As a monster storm approached

A small Midwestern town,

Swirling clouds indicated

A tornado had touched down.

Granny jumped into her truck

Without a shred of concern,

And driving toward the twister past

The point of no return,

She raced into the monster dead on--

Talk about courage and pluck!--

And knocked that twister to smithereens

With hardly a scratch on her truck!

Try to stay calm. Do not panic.

Land sakes alive!

There she was to save the day:

Granny in her four-wheel drive.

Whenever we find ourselves in a bind

And wonder how we'll survive,

We think about Granny coming to the rescue

In her four-wheel drive.

By Bob B (1-5-15)