“Do not believe in anything merely because it is said, nor in traditions because they have been handed down from antiquity, nor in rumors as such: not in writings by sages because sages wrote them; not in fancies that we may suspect to have been inspired in us by a deva nor in inferences drawn from some haphazard assumption we may have made: nor in what seems to be an analogical necessity: nor in the mere authority of our teachers and masters.

Believe when the writing, doctrine, or saying is corroborated by reason and conciousness.”   – Buddah

I wrote this poem in 1995

I see a wall of colors bright.
There is a strength, some unkown light.

Seasons change blue to gray,
Time passes by as children play,
Memories past forgotten at last,
By the eve of the first school day.

I see the wall but cannot feel,
I see the wall but it is unreal,
Fun we think, forever lost,
Fun we think, but at whose cost,
To look upon with no insight,
that glow becomes a little less bright.

At times we look, but do not see,
What it takes to do …
then to be.