A toad crouches on a lily-pad,
a venomous creature,
ugly in thought, word and deed.
Alone and defiant,
cranky and cantankerous,
hallucinogenic and cynical,
tripping out in dark hell realms.
Stranger in this haloed world,
cursing the very air he breathes,
wishing for the whole nightmare to collapse and end,
Until one day innocence breezes by,
flowers in her hair,
all nubile nudity,
wandering where the path might lead,
heart in love with all creation's particulars,
whistling the song of the carefree,
known to all tongues
as the melody of liberation's dance.
The toad, though immersed in foul odours,
stirs as innocence passes.
Seeing him she smiles,
purses her lips
and as sweet sounds stream forth,
showering him with love,
the (un)fortunate amphibian realises his beauty,
and the two fuse,
souls collapsed into the ecstasy of oneness.
The toad's wayward pattern is absorbed into the
compassionate flow of the circle of life,
and he is free to play in the garden of redemption.