The Man Who Broke His Legs

Two men loved to free-climb mountains.

One day, one of them fell from high up,
breaking both his legs terribly.

His friend, seeing the accident,
swore he would never climb again.

When the injured man’s legs had healed,
he resumed climbing.
– Seeing this, his friend rebuked him:
“What good are is it to risk your legs again, climbing?”

But his friend responded,
“What good are unbroken legs,
if you are too afraid to use them?”

The Man Who Broke His Legs

Towards A Waterfall

I am caught in the current of a culture;
moving at its speed,
I sense no pull,
no motion.

But when I am still and silent,
in quiet morning hours,
it’s as if I see the shoreline, wizzing by,
and realize our speed.

I’m afraid that we speed headlong
towards a waterfall,

and even when I swim with all my strength,
there seems to be no escape.



To lack alcohol in the body
is not enough to live sober.

Every moment I am drunk.

I stumble along patterns of thoughts,
tripping over thing I swore off long ago…
a fool.

No….”sober” thinking is seldom sober.

– One must be aware of one’s own state,
like a drunk who knows he is drunk,
and so is careful with every step.


The Man Who Wanted To Build A Perfect House

There once was a man who
wanted to build the perfect house.

He took out paper,
and set down to design it.

Lines were drawn
and erased
and re-drawn
and re-erased;

weeks went by,
then months,
then years.

“Nothing less than perfect
will do” he said to himself.

The man grew old
and the edges of his plans
grew crinkled and stained.

Finally, the old man died
and when the people came to take away his possessions,
the sheets of paper were crumpled up
and thrown into the fire
without a second glance.

man who wanted to build perfect house


The thief’s world is distrust.
The mother’s world, tenderness.
The writer’s world, meaning.
The believer’s world, a test.
The athlete’s world, a competition.
The academic’s world, a conversation.

I see so many worlds;
worlds contradicting
and yet somehow co-existing;

people walking side by side,
but worlds apart.


Man Is A Fool

Man is a fool.

He knows that he will die,
but instead of living the life he wants,
he waits until death is near,
then says, “If only…”

He knows that his loved ones will die,
but instead of saying what he wants,
he waits until death is near,
then says, “If only…”

He looks back on his life,
wishing he had risked more,
but insists that his children play it safe.

He consumes that which destroys him,
worships that which enslaves him,
and hates that which loves him.

Man is a fool.

There Can Be

There can be silence in sound,
and sound in silence.

There can be stillness in movement,
and movement in stillness.

There can be order in chaos,
and chaos in order.

There can be ignorance in wisdom,
and wisdom in ignorance.

There can be hunger in fullness,
and fullness in hunger.

There can be death in life,
and life in death.

In The Land Of Know-It-All

In the land of know-it-alls,
there ruled a stupid king.
He did not read, he did not write,
remembered most nothing.

Each day upon a throne of gold,
in dumb silence he sat;
politicians, philosophers,
asking this and that.

His answers to the questions posed,
would always be the same:
a far-off gaze, a silly smirk,
a few words ’bout trees or dew.
Then left his guests, full of wonder
at the things this wise king knew.

In the land of knowitalls


Expect to find beauty everywhere,
and you will find it everywhere:

in swaying trees,
the sound of moving water,
the warmth of your limbs,
people holding hands.

Expect to find ugliness everywhere,
and you will find it everywhere:

in cold concrete,
the empty, lifeless skies,
the self-centered, anxious people,
the stifling heat.

ugly and beauty


Change is sweeping our world up;
noone knows exactly how things will be set down again.

Science, discovering
what religion already guessed;
a world, connected with an invisble string:
tied as One.

Things await that no one can imagine.
Reality always surprises.

A revolution in thinking.
A change in understanding.
We are One.

Nature balances the imbalanced;
every up, comes down.
every down, comes back up.


A Toast

A toast;

to Romanticism;
to everything foolish;
everything idealistic,
everything “childish”;

to the fools,
the crazies,
the dreamers;

to the fairy-tales,
the happy endings.

In a world poisoned by cynicism,
crushing everything beautiful;
skewing our perception.

Science is waking us up;
everything is made up of Music;
everything is made up of Mind;
everything is made up of Possibility.

Are we contrained to live vapid,
stupid, boring, colorless lives?

Why do we have to believe
that everything will come to nothing in the end;
that the world is a machine,
noisy, senseless, meaningless?

A toast;
to Romanticism;
to everything foolish;
everything idealistic,
everything “childish”.

the mad ones