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.