Beatified Limericks for All Saints’ Day

Grateful Limericks for the Soul

There’s a deep-seated tradition of writing limericks laced with sexual innuendo, but sometimes we need a few limericks for the soul. It’s not that I’m a doctor, but it doesn’t take a PhD to recognize that the soul of the world is suffering. So who better than me — with a bachelor’s degree in science — to deliver a few medicinal limericks to heal that elusive aspect of the human anatomy?

And what better day than Thanksgiving to reflect on the lessons and learnings of the past year, a year packed with drama, dissent, and — in most social circles — a conspicuous absence of soulful limericks?

While measuring every sensation
And holding all things in relation
You’ll gain a perspective
But not as reflective
As knowing your own situation

There’s a force with a name known by none
It’s referred to by some as the one
And it can’t be dismantled
Nor spoken or handled
But through it all things will be done

Pretending to measure your station
By the standards of civilization
They attempt to assess
All the signs of success
While ignoring the heart’s elevation

Regardless of what one believes
The universe waxes and breathes
While ebbing and flowing
And always unknowing
The Tao, without purpose, achieves

Like an onion whose layers have lifted
The Self with sharp vision and gifted
Is shedding its skin
To expose what’s within
It’s consciousness pure and unscripted

When ego gets hold of your mind
Then the notion of self is confined
To a tight narrow cell
And forgotten how well
Every sentient thing is entwined