I happened to meet a Master Napping along the way. “I have some things to ask, sir.” To this he made no say. Then I pestered him with questions, That I long had thought upon. But there was no suggestion, Of any he would dwell on. I asked him the hardest riddles, I had chanced on through my years, But he made me no committal, Nor gave notice he would hear. Then I began to notice, Though with much chagrin, That with the smallest focus, I found answers from within. Slowly he began to stir, As if he would now speak. I thought his wrath I did incur, By way of queried cheek. But he merely looked at me, And set me to this task: “You’ve showered me in fools debris – What would you really ask?” He looked full on with blazing eye, My breath caught in my throat. But soon my words were raising high, I said this, and I quote: “What are we to make of Life, It seems to have no scheme. Caught between both ease and strife, Like some madman’s dream.” He gave a look sharp as a knife, Then he turned away. “Perhaps we only dream a life.” And more he would not say. I left him where he sat then, Pondering his theme. And though I do not see the end, I will live out my own dream. Cliff Lake 12/26/2023 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023
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