The Accountant and the Dervish

I note down each and every day In a diary fat and blue An account of the time I while away Doing things I shouldn’t do. I also keep record of tasks complete A note of all I have done In hand I write down clean and neat A ledger of little fun.

I happened on a dervish today Living without a care He smiles at what I have to say When I ask him where He keeps his journal of wins and woes His tally of tasks and chores He whirls in bliss as one who knows And my questions he ignores.

I raise my voice and ask the sage Why he twists in such delight And why irresponsible at his age And what of wrong and right? But the man pirouettes in quiet joy And nary a word to me He snuffs out the “I”, he does destroy Himself, and finds eternity.