Honey Child

Honey Child
the world is full of weeping
but what good does it do
to weep right along
and carry the weight
which has never been yours?

You came here,
precious babe
Buddha baby
smiling from ear to ear
'till you heard something
that struck a fear
a fire
and spread in you
and that Buddha child
was gone.
Just gone.

Like a slow steady drip this world can be
and as each droplet forms itself
in that body
it seems its a world of it
and you know child,
it is.
It brings you to a world
slipping back through earth history
whispering to you
every tender frailty
you ever felt or saw or knew.
But the choice was yours and you're alone
and when you grasp ahold of that
and don't let go
it's gonna lift you into what is true
it'll take you out of that old world
and into YOU.

So the Buddha babies
they are waking up just now
the world winter
is turning fast to Spring.
Some think its the end of the world
but honey child,
its just another chapter
and the world is getting ready to walk
when its just spent a time only crawling.

Oh, they will say "look, he is enlightened"
or "she bears the mantle of the divine,"
and that's nice child
because we are waking to this Spring
but it's a turning of the seasons of humankind
and what we thought we lacked
was there growing inside
like a mustard seed
ready to spread itself out
so the birds might come and perch in our boughs.
See,
those seeds,
they have lain inside each of us
true
waiting till the arming comes
that is inside of you.

You can cook carrots,
you can cook eggs
or you can cook tea,
child,
and really, the choice is yours.
You can cook them carrots till they turn to mush
and surely the water will help you soften.
You can cook them eggs till they grow hard in their shells
and sure enough,
they will be nice and tough for the days ahead.
Or, you can take this tea I am steeping
and see how all the trouble of the world
which could have turned it hard or soft
did neither.
It was the tea that CHANGED that water, child.
I suppose we forget
that we can change our own world
thinking we must grow hard or soft
one or the other
when perhaps it is neither.

Sometimes on the way
we just plain forget
but forgetting has its own purpose
by forging resolve
and making us more clear
until the next step we take
shows us how well all that has come before
has served us.

Sure,aint no world seeming perfect
except what lays within
but we aint used to seeing that deep
where the treasure lies in wait
but that's how it mostly is, child,
and don't you forget
that Buddha resting gentle
and smiling inside.
Hard or soft, I guess it don't matter.
Loud or quiet, high or low,
I 'spect what matters are those seeds we sow
the water we steep
the dreams we keep
and never let ahold of
they lift  us up
as eyes have dreams
full of plenty
and what we choose to see
we become
until in becoming
we come to the end of all we thought we were
and we just come back to what we are
and sipping our tea
realize the world is full of
joyfulness
enough for all
and certainly enough for you and me.