Lobelia Cafe …
Born to hunger, built for the job, he set out to find his fulfilment.
This way and that, hither and thither, finding only what falls to his nose.
Then out of the blue, a stairway did rise, a possible route to enlightenment.
Climbing around, there a dead end, the scent of the mystic as ever arose.
Undeterred, by weak footing and treacherous winds, his life appeared a plod.
Now and again, breakthrough the tangle, the stairway would rise up once more.
The darkness would come, he tuckered down, waking to morning light as a god.
To start over his climb, refreshed by the nectar, a sighting of the far shore.
Til one day it occurred, he saw the flaw, stopping him dead in his track.
The error it was, the far shore is not there, was time to cease reaching.
Twas enough of him spent, the way he was bent, a load off of his back
Supped he from the well, the darkness dispel, listen … no more preaching.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge