Companionship

Who is man's best friend?

It is not the dog that eats his kibble.

It is not the fish that nibbles on flakes.

No, it is not the cat that stretches and purrs.

No, it is not an animal that leaves its furs.

Because after years have gone by,

These things leave him high and dry.

Nothing is certain—

Only the closing curtain.

His companion, whom he loves,

Will eventually soar like the doves.

His guardians will fade,

Along life's journey, he will wade.

So why focus on what will perish

When he could focus on something worth cherishing?

Something forever,

Which never is never.

Internally there—

The one true being who will care.

Who will care when he goes?

Only this being truly knows.

Because everything is inside,

Because the mind is where he shall reside.

What does it mean to coexist?

To truly forget all others and simply exist?

To the songbird, it means to tweet at dawn.

To the plants, it is to live in harmony with the faun.

To the fire of the west, it is to set in the east.

To the littlest rodent, it is to befriend the beast.

To winds of change, it is to increase their range.

To the odd little duck, it is to become less strange.

But to the man who wanders,

His best friend forever ponders—

For true companionship, which he ultimately will seek,

Is himself, very humbly, very meek.

Meek not as in cowardice,

But meek as in pulling back your fist.

So who is the one we want in the end?

Who is man’s best friend?