I GRIND IN THE MILL

I GRIND IN THE MILL
life is a lesson,
we learn by the feet of the aged sage
we listen and are informed,
we see and perceive,
hear and hearken,
we drink from the world
and grind in its mills

we are grains being ground,
to make ever soft a flour,
just as buds turn to flower,
seconds morph into an hour
caterpillar into butterfly,
then on summer wing fly,
we churn and turn,
and live and learn
and are thus ground in the mills of life...
And in the workshop,
metal red,
in the anvil struck hot
and metal sharpens metal,
we are made by others sharpened us,
and thus if in life we live,
then we are also milled and gnashed
in the mill of life.

And though most know not,
i smile underground,
as i grind in the mill.