Beer Store

On a bus trip in Nepal,
I was feeling very small.
I asked the monk beside me
His advice.

He pondered for awhile,
Then he smiled a toothless smile,
He whispered to me,
“Consider rice.”

“Rice grains are sands of time.
And when they all align,
Sometimes you get risotto,
And sometimes beer.”

He drifted back to sleep.
I thought, “That’s pretty deep.”
I vowed to find the secrets
In the grains of rice.

It was getting pretty late,
So I tried to meditate.
Can a toothless grin
Still really be a smile?

Then I thought about the rice,
I guessed you roll the dice.
Sometimes you get risotto,
Sometimes beer.

Maybe the rice were nations,
Not just our daily rations,
And all of us have our jobs
To fulfill the world.

I let out a little groan,
My mind was fully blown.
The sleeping monk’s rice
Was a universal truth.

As I drifted off to sleep,
A little doubt did creep.
What if the smiling monk
Just wanted to be left alone?

At sunrise’s early glow,
I guessed I’d never know.
Sometimes deep thoughts
Aren’t really that profound.

There’s a beer store in the Himalayas.
In the clouds up in the sky.
But no-one ever goes there,
Since they’re already very high.