From My Room In Lodi Ashram

I watch the traffic of the speeding world,

The ceaseless commerce on the roads of time,

The caution lights, the pulsing stop and go

Of these frail engines. What is the paradigm

We seek, what destiny, what impulse drives

The traveller in fast approaching night

Where danger lurks at known and unknown turns?

The blurring streaks of green and red and white

Are beautiful against the evening sky

And yet the energy that we consume

Is disproportionate to our need,

To slow our cars and one day to relume

This atmosphere we callously pollute.

There is a mileage quotient to our quest

And newer modes of movement must be found

By opening to the presence of the Guest

Who is the vehicle we thought we owned.