Group 2 - On Choice

The discipline of love hurts, they say Why does it have to be this way When the dog lifts up her litter by the neck Her teeth gentle as down, won't hurt nor wreck When the eagle nudges her young out to fly Gentleness exudes from her and the sky But humans hurt in order to love Though this is the Law written from high above. Gentleness and tenderness in love reside Harshness and hurtfulness with love collide.

Sun scorching Head torching Sandy desert Where I fret Why such heat I must meet And my feet Fire greet? I heard a voice You have the choice Without dread Clear your head And embrace This warm grace; Else you choose Your head lose Hell's own flame Your head claim And all blame Will be lame. In this dream You may scream Or smile For a while. You will live What you believe.

I saw a duck sitting, floating, A sitting duck, the hunter gloating Yet it offered no challenge The hunter did his mind change He shot a duck flying high A rock, it fell out of the sky. The sitting duck still floating, The hunter, the dead duck gloating. Sometimes running from death We take our final breath Yet a trusting sitting duck Will continue our life's clock.

On the fateful day the young bride Quietly, gently, sighed, then cried No matter how much she tried Her cold feet could not hide. Any project we have in mind Of any sort and any kind Uncertain ourselves will find Yet can always put doubt behind.

I was sitting in a corner, observing Everybody was useful, and serving Earning, learning, volunteering their time In their eyes I was idle in my prime. I asked my friends why they did what they did For most of them, their reasons from them hid Were too busy to spend time searching for reasons Out of habit continued in their own self-erected prisons, While I refused to blindly obey any force of habit Instead of unconscious slavery, I'd rather idly sit. Utility can only be the purpose of the unimaginative Rest, idleness and meditation can be quite regenerative. Enlightenment does not come from senseless utility Sometimes it comes through that which seems futility.

One bad apple spoils the bunch Throw it away, our natural hunch. Even bad apples contain the seed Of good apples if allowed to succeed. Do not condemn the organic rot In finding the seed, instead plot, Instead of letting it others spoil Plant its seeds in nurturing soil.