17 Followers

Dedicated to my 17 sensational followers. ---------------------------------------------- 17 followers, Who stir the soup of thought, Are searching for the silent man, Who never can be bought. Somewhere in the rocks and hills, The man is lost and dumb, He cannot lose the milling stone, Or win the kingdom come. The 17 are poets, Who practice what they preach, The writings on the wall, they say, To those they cannot teach. In the desert desolate, A spring of truth is nigh, An aggregate of jesters, Is jeering him nearby. The 17 are seekers, They too, have lost the way, But in the secret canyon, They join as one to pray. The serpent king is laughing, The man is nearly dead, The desert floor is drowning, Inside a diamond bed. The 17 are miners, But riches they have none, They seek the golden nuggets, That radiate the sun. The vultures are ascending, To feast upon the ghost, The sacrament of Satan, Is waiting for the host. The 17 are jewelers, They jostle for the heirs, To seven magic kingdoms, That lie beneath the stairs. The devil's work is over, The wonder that remains, Is grateful to the 17, Who sent the summer rains, The 17 are shepherds, But then, are not we all? To serve the silent beggar, And save the ones who fall. The Master in His glory, Prepared the rainbow band, To celebrate the quiet ones, Who cultivate the sand.