Sitting to Meditate: an art work by T Newfields
When I sit down to meditate
all of my devils join me as well.

"Are you sure you want to do this?
Isn’t it a waste of time?”
a voice of skepticism chides.

If I smile and say, “Why not?”
that voice becomes quiet momentarily.

However, soon after that
different rascals appear.

One announces,"Hey – I have some fascinating ideas!
If you give me your attention, you can hear!”

This spirit is slippery
& skilled at manipulating hopes.
The only way to dispel it is to say,
“No thanks, I’m already a dope!”

If I make it this far,
a cool silence sometimes appears,
yet many other buggers beg for attention:
have we forgotten lust, sloth, or fear?

Such phantoms feed off energy.
making Trump-style promises
without delivering anything.

Yet sometimes it seems
through a grace undeserved,
I slip past such negative energies.

Then – for a few moments at least –
my spirit is immersed in an ancient well-spring.

Nadia:   (Grabbing a beer) Worrying 'bout devils turns people into boring farts.
Wan-Sze:   Agreed! Too much concern with “spirituality” makes 'em tasteless tarts.
Kasim:   (Yawning) Only one question concerns me: how can we discover the world's best ice cream?
Will:   Why not be honest? Aren’t we inflating fear, sloth, and envy?