The Monks Are Going Into The Caves

The Monks Are Going Into The Caves

is what my mother would say

when she was trying to instill in me

that all is actually well …

especially, she would mention –

it is, an election year, things are going to be crazy.”

So, I know, this Monk, is going into the cave.

The center, a passion play that is not a trick.

Act 1-

Once there was a mouse. Who heard a

distant sound. He left his home in search

of the source of mystery. This mouse

fell into the river and found a journey.

Seven Arrows, a grandfather

suggested .. don’t go .. stay here with me …

But, the mouse had given everything he

had away, fear – his only robe!

Soon – the mouse, fearing a shadow ..

found that the Eagle .. his biggest fear –

was on him. After he let go .. he flew away.

On the top of a mountain –

he found, he was,


Act 2-

and I alone, in my room, learned of

Nelson Mandela, read the book – as

a child, appalled that this man was so

alone for so long – just because. and then

we stood and fought and won, surrounded

the Thinker, took over the information station –

and shut it down, Minerva – and her machine

was crushed by her own children. A progressive

league of students, and I, as a young man … took

down oppression. yet .. on to No Nukes –

The F.O.C.U.L point of a campaign – fairness was born –

I went on to study culture born of a Malian empire – and

then, was captured by the natives and haunted

by the sounds of rail yard ghosts.

Act 3-

There is power, there is power in a band of working

folks, when they stand, united they fall and now I am going

into the cave. A monk, the loneliest one. I have climbed

enough mountains, drank enough wine, I know this is not

an act, I have seen the end, turned and came back, I fear

only fear – because, …

Act 4 –

We are all going to die. We are not free.

Point Of Privilege!

whereas – I have sat with activists,

sang with reds and hippies, worked with people

who were born again, found god, ran from


whereas – I have drummed a sacred sound

with the best. Found a place somewhere there,

out there in space, I have heard the last trumpet –

written disgruntled revelations to the editor.

whereas – we all want the same thing! All of us

who are awake to the spirit, equations, language –

call it what you want .. we all come from dirt.

So, there for be it resolved.

I quit.

The monks are going

into the caves and

I am going with them!

To be or not to be,

is a statement,

not a question!

John Paul




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