Don't Get Too Educated

I unplugged my outrage meter 

and threw it into the fountain of love.

Next morning a child discovered it

encrusted with emeralds and pearls.

Then the experts arrived. 

A professor from NIH proclaimed, 

"This is junk science." 

A nervous CIA official declared,

"It came from a sunken Nazi submarine."

“Back-engineered alien technology!" 

muttered a Pentagon whistle-blower. 

But Hafez the bartender gave me better advice: 

"If breathing won't clear the clouds away,

assume they're part of the cocktail.

Mix with bitters and orange rind, poured over 

the crushed ice of loneliness.”

Then Chung Tzu whispered in my ear:

"If you want to discover ten thousand 

uses for the useless, abandon 

every concept of better and worse. 

Be a rose, pollinated by a rogue bull comet, 

shouting back at the sky in the lost 

language of the heart."

Easy for you to say, old fellow, 

but what do I say?  After all, 

I’m writing this poem! I say, 

"Learn to ride the donkey backward 

if you want to find the true Way. 

Traveling West, gaze Eastward and sing,

follow me, Sunrise! I'll lead you to

Summer meadows and Autumn afternoons. 

On Winter evenings I’ll show you how 

stars are born from sacred darkness.”

You laugh? Don't get too educated, friend. 

Let's just say there's a fifty-fifty chance 

your eyes create the light they see.