The Monk Poem by James Fitzpatrick

He sits on the edge of the world
Watching us come
Jotting, then scribbling, then painting, then down
To lie back in his hive and marvel at us
The ones looking in at the one

He writes what he can on a mission alone
To create such a book of the world we call home,
He sits and he talks to the puffins and gulls
While we scrape and we fight for everything us

At the end of each day he cloisters his thoughts
On his knees he prays to his invisible God,
At the end of each day we become a big gang
To raid his sweet home and take which we can

He sits bruised on the edge of the world
Watching us run,
Jotting, then scribbling, then painting, then down
To sit back on the rocks and marvel at us
The ones very jealous of one

A poem about greed and about jealousy. How some people look at others happy with nothing, till they with everything, try to destroy it. However, It is impossible to destroy a peaceful mind filled with the power and Karma of doing good. Namaste