#65: Taking Note Of Hell's Bells (Confidence)

(Sighn Post 5)

We stopped amid a swirling storm.
The murky fog was wet and warm.
Out of mid-air, a sign did form . . .
a bell bent on ringing true.

It clanged its message out in rote,
melodic, I'd say, for just one note,
easy to sing, but hard to quote,
though our liking of it grew.

And pretty soon, I must admit,
we started to interpret it,
and actually dreamt that we could fit
words in where none might do.

"There is no single, hottest star.
There is no universal par.
When and Where you ever are,
is just the How of you.

Read it moral. Read it not.
The subject may be cold or hot.
There is no simple, central spot,
when found, will see you through.

Hair is short, and grass is long.
Acts are either right or wrong,
and things are either weak or strong,
but only when there's two.

Comparing is prerequisite
to mankind's every start and fit.
You cannot judge, or act, if it
ain't in your retinue.

Oh sure, you might become perplexed,
and fearful that it's just context,
and beg the heavens for some checks
and balance to accrue . . .

then check your heart and find the seed
planted there that makes you need
your life and world so refereed.
Make no mistake, it's you.

Because you're children travelers,
riddled, koan unravelers,
context must be a pal of yours . . .
the only rule that's true.

So hear this sin-phony I play,
and know that choice is just a way
to admit that you don't have a say,
let alone a clue."