A learned teacher came upon
an old and antiquated sage.
The doctor spoke with happiness,
the sage with loving care.
 
Said the teacher of meaningness,
"All roads lead to heaven."
"Oh, but they don't," said the sage,
"All, but one, lead away."
 
So the teacher of beingness said
"But that's the art in the walking."
Said the sage, "Which breaks
upon those feet of clay."
 
"My, no, no," said the teacher,
"Learning is bound in our failure."
"When such failure is," said the sage,
"but our learning led astray."
 
"But it is learning," said the teacher,
"and along whichever road."
"Which soon turn," said the sage,
"whatever white into grey."
 
To that the happy teacher said,
"So you fear . . . the journey?"
"No, no, no," the sage said,
"But seeing The Good, I stay."
 
The teacher of differentness said,
"I know God as The Good."
"And The Just", said the sage,
"were you just as sure to say?"
 
"Sure, and also," said the teacher,
"He is tolerant of each and all."
"But, yet you know," said the sage,
"the night does remove the day."
 
Now the virtueness teacher said,
"My God just so loves the night."
"Well, a god you know," the sage said,
"In such times as you wouldn't pray."
 
"Whoa there, unfair!," cried teacher,
"Prayer is that living we do."
"Yes, truly," the sage said,
"And you do whatever you may."
 
So, thought the teacher of emptiness,
"We do whatever is loving."
"But love is whatever," said the sage,
"along all but one, narrow Way."