Poetry Offerings from Myonahitori

Cockroaches

Mother

Father



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


 

Cockroaches

  I try hard, to look for the creator in all things. The possibilities 
  narrow, of where It is not. 
  I try hard, to remember where It is, and 
  to realize where It must also be. 
  I try hard, to communicate with the animals, 
  and the plants, 
  and the bugs. 
  I try to let them know, we are all equal, we are all 
  friends, and that other humans do not see this...and are scared. 
  I try hard to see the God of gods, 
  that blows the wind, 
  that moves the grass, 
  that hides the bugs, 
  that move the soil, 
  that is the Earth, 
  that burns inside! 
  And still, 
                 the cockroaches come into my house! 

next



















 
 

The Mother

 
When I walk out into my yard, 
I step on the ancient, 
so I take off my shoes.... 
It is as old as the rock that 
spins in the universe. 
And above me, 
great herds of cloud make their way... 
who knows where? 
This thing! this system, It is so old, 
and yet It blooms anew everyday..... 
every instant! 
I call It mother, She calls it US. 
next
























 
 

The Father

 
The sun shines on everyone. 
We all know that a power like the sun 
can not be hidden, 
or all that it feeds, would surely die. 
If such a power exists, 
that all that breathe and grow, 
are nourished by it,
and none of these things give anything back, 
If such a power exists, that it burns itself 
for ten billon years, with no reason, 
that it has created and fed the infinate things, 
equally,  and without debt, 
If such a power shines on us everday, 
then why do men keep looking for it? 
The sun never hides what it is. 
It does not change to those who question, or study it. 
If it happens to remind you a little of yourself, let it. 
If you seek the Great Teacher, It is here. 
It has been here ten billon years, 
and said nothing, 
but has shown, 
everything. 
                       Copy the Sun.
- Myonahitori
 

to children      to Moongate