A young child, at the edge of a vast forest, calls out
“is there anybody there?”
The silence echos back at him, as it has always done. But, sooner or later something may answer his call. Will it be a large, friendly Labrador, with it’s tail wagging furiously that comes rushing out of the forest’s black interior to greet him, or a pack of ravenous wolves. He knows not, yet he continues to call.
Is not the above, rather like our obsession with finding “aliens”? I don’t know whether they exist, but our obsession with shouting into the dark forest may, sooner or later result in us finding out. Perhaps the confirmation of the existence of aliens will be the last knowledge we, as humans gain …
The cook does mutter
About the missing butter,
While the dog licks his lips
And eyes up the chips …
Yesterday (25 March), I found my guide dog Trigger with his nose in a tub of butter. I had heard a crash in the kitchen earlier. however, on investigating and there appearing to be nothing amiss, I returned to the living room, until the sound of my hungry canine tucking into a tub of butter reached my ears!
My dog yelps in his sleep.
Can a canine weep?
And what thoughts of joy or pain
Pass through his sleeping brain?
In an exstasy of sound and smell
The freshly roasted chicken, just out of reach is sheer hell
To my friend
Is food and play.
Will not be so long as mine,
Yet we humans whine
While you in the moment live
And give such love
To your god above
Who sits envying you your state of grace.
Would that I could change place
My friend true.