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I've been thinking about something to do,
I've been thinking about
Mao Tse-Tung and Lao-Tzu;

breathing deep, whispering breeze,
wind blowing softly underneath wandering feet,
a horse that is galloping at fullest of speeds;

trying to concentrate all my intent,
life's mysterious
windy, twisting, turning sharp bends;

I've been thinking about a sunset
with no beginning or end;
butterflies flying inside of a dream-
Did I dream the butterfly or did he dream of me?

I've been thinking about something to do,
just thinking,
like a meandering stream,

tranquility's waters,
swaying, brown, gentle trees, mistiest mountains,
blue-gray harmonious green;

I've been thinking all day of Winnie the Pooh,
what does it mean the path of Kung Fu, a wise owl
and Lao-Tzu too,

Five pecks of rice elixirs of life,
Dragon and Tiger mountains
and Four or Five books of life;

I've been thinking about the Tao and Te Ching,
about a silent song
not to sing,
and also about the mother of ten thousand things;

I've been thinking about babies and Buddhas
and something to do,
but whenever I start
I do not even begin to get through,
I've been thinking all day
of Winnie the Pooh,

thinking of filling
the cup up past the brim, I've been thinking about
a sunrise with no beginning or end;

I've been thinking of a letter
I'd rather not send, of retiring when
the work comes to an end

I've been concentrating as hard as I might
to think of nothing
through the twilight
nothing at all
is what I intend
walking silently
with my one friend;

I've been sitting here
silently under a tree,
awaiting a vision
I'd hoped come come to be;

I've been thinking of yes-
at the same time thinking of no,
I've been thinking about a place
I might possibly never go;

A hundred flowers blooming simultaniously,
a hundred schools teach
contending to be,
a mysterious song
of harmony;

a dulcimer player
playing his fingers and strings
passionately,
in a subway station in New York City;

a bus riding to the top and winding its way
through Newark's twisting streets
of dangerous turns
at the end of the day,

in the path of the bus's middleest alleyway,
people standing
and sweating,
counting the days;

thinking about a road and way through a path,
I've been thinking about
harmony's orderly,
musical, virtuous craft;

I've been looking at everything
in perfect place,
and of five thousand words
and a buffalo's back, a buffalo's face;

I've been thinking all day
of something to do,
of Buddha and babies and Winnie the Pooh
of all life's reflections
in harmony,
of the gentle breeze
that might touch
the gentlest leaf.

China and Babies and Winnie the Pooh This story incorporates the elements of Chinese religion and philosophies, and is also drawn from the ideas presented in the book The Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Hoff (Penguin, 1982), which documents the striking parallels between the Chinese religion of Taoism and the story of Winnie the Pooh. The characters of Winnie the Pooh and their rhetoric parallel closely the cadence and tone of the holy writings of Taoism. Winnie the Pooh was released as a book in 1926, but seems to have been actually written towards the end of WWI by AA Milne. The book was illustrated by an associate, Ernest A. Shepherd, who worked with Milne on a satirical political newspaper prior to WWI. The characters look much the same as with what we are familiar, from the children's movie produced in 1966 by Disney (who bought the rights to Winnie the Pooh from Milne's widow). There were a total of four Pooh books in the series that were originally written.

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Source by John W. Scott