The Zen Ox-Herding pictures

I have the zen ox-herding pictures on my wall and look at them often. So a poem like this was bound to emerge sooner or later :)


Searching for the ox – again

I who knew the way so well
how could I get lost?
One minute I am riding the ox
home
(or so I thought)
and the next
I neither know where my home is
nor where my ox is.
I have traversed trickier paths than this
with greater dangers on either side
and yet I get lost
on a straight road?
Did I think I could stroke the flames
and not get burnt?
Did I think I could do overtime in the market place
and not care about profit and loss?
Did I think I could keep playing the game
and not get caught up in the score?
Did I think I could drink without a care
and not get drunk?
Did I think I could stagger drunk
and not stumble?
One minute I am riding on the razor’s edge
the next
I can’t even see the line.
Discipline was for the dull
I thought
and morality was boring.
Surely the way I am riding my ox
I don’t need either.
That is when I lost my ox.