The cars rush by, the city shouts and cries,
But he just sits with ancient, knowing eyes.
The street dog, coloured like the sun-baked dust,
Has learned the simple, final law of trust.
He trusts the sun will warm his sleeping back,
He trusts the night to come when day turns black.
He takes the offered biscuit, or the bread,
And doesn't worry what lies far ahead.
He finds his joy in small and simple things,
The afternoon nap that the quiet brings.
He doesn't dream of palaces or thrones,
His kingdom is a patchwork of warm stones.
We run and chase a future we can't see,
While he has learned to simply, truly be.
A silent teacher on a busy street,
With dusty paws and a slow, steady beat.
Poet's Note
We often search for wisdom in complex books and lectures, but I believe it's all around us. This poem was inspired by watching a street dog rest peacefully amidst the chaos of a city. It struck me that this animal was a master of mindfulness, living completely in the present moment. It's a reminder that sometimes the most profound teachers are the ones we overlook every day.