Meditation on Birnan Wood
That which you fear always comes
To you the nightmare is a curse
What matter if there be alarm
Or be a warning voice
Your fate was set when you were born
If you are wise you know this
As Buddha taught this
For every debt a reckoning comes
To pay it you were born
Though you may curse
With angry voice
Or be paralyzed by alarm
How futile to resist in your alarm
Accept this
The accusing voice
For justice comes
With unending curse
Your hope still born
Or never born
You were not given the alarm
That you might cheat your curse
Try then to accept this
With pondering steps and slow, fate comes
With fair and measured voice
Ah, that hollow voice
To saint or sinner born
A certain knowledge comes
The first alarm
Heed this
And knowing, mercy cry or curse
So to Macbeth, a curse
A witch's voice
Foretold this
Both hope and horror equal born
Sound an alarm
The Birnan wood still comes
With you your curse was born
While ancient voice echoes alarm
Something wicked this way comes.
from June, 2001 issue