The Dance of Brother Ben

Once a busy monk named Brother Ben,

Went about tasks again and again.

"Ask a busy man to do a thing,"

They’d say, and tasks to him they'd bring.

 

He'd scuttle, hustle, without a rest,

Doing more, doing his best

From morning till the evening chime,

He’d fill every single moment of time.

 

Brother Ben, with his brain aflutter,

Took off like a bee from butter to butter.

His mind, a high-speed worker bee,

Bouncing like a ball in a lottery.

 

Oh, the irony of his quest,

In pursuit of peace, he had no rest.

A monk so busy, can it be?

Drowned in tasks, he sought tranquility.

 

Under pressure, his thoughts took flight,

In the rush, lost the serene night.

The bloom of stillness, he hardly knew,

In a whirl of tasks, away it flew.

 

His precious resource, his peace of mind,

In the rush, he left behind.

His health, his calm, all in a daze,

Lost in his busy monkish ways.

 

 

 

Then a wise old monk named Brother Bree,

 

Told him, "Slowness is the key.

 

The mind, like a bee, needs to alight,

 

To taste the nectar of the quiet night."

 

 

 

And so, Brother Ben began to slow,

 

In the lower gear, he let himself go.

 

Better health, inner peace, came into sight,

 

His mind, like the moon, shone bright in the night.

 

 

 

For in the calm of a mindful glide,

 

He found the peace he’d cast aside.

 

In life's slow lane, he took his stance,

 

And the busy monk began to dance.

 

 

 

Now Brother Ben, not so busy, not so fleet,

 

Finds joy in moments slow and sweet.

 

He's learned at last, to his delight,

 

The true peace in the quiet of the night.