Does this laughing baby brook know how far its journey?

near the shortest day,the seasons all confused this yeareven the great globe itselfconfused by manand on this gusty daya rose throwsitself upon the worldsimultaneously hero, heroine, victimseen calling through the window;if it were a child alone out thereyou would rush out to save itdoes the rose knowhow beautiful it is?or is it wiser than we…

the heartlocked in the mind.Oh it’s so difficultto praise the modestthe heartlocked in the mindOh it’s so difficultto love those who hate themselvesOh it’s so difficultto bring joy to the suicidalbut worth a try

why, it’s none other than Kabir!reading a book entitled The Poems of Kabir;he’s smiling, laughing, waving his hands –how can he be enjoying himself so much?The manuscript doesn’t tell you this;only Kabir can tell you, in that other place..of all the poems, he only recognises twoas poems that he wrote himself..but here’s Kabir’s delight today:many…

(sairrf = serf)

backed up by many more glial cells..each neuron surrounded by its dendronslike a tree’s inquisitive, hungry rootsor a seacreature’s gently waving frondsmaking synapses, new connectionsbetween what one cell holds, and another,as a tree’s roots seek its heavenly nourishment in earth;so that, each time two words of poetry,put together for the first time by a poetin…

all the lovein the worldsooner or later