Time for some poetry

He sadly sat beside the road;

His engine's gasket blown -

His car was old and cold and towed;

The man was left alone.

'I need to find a place to stay

Until it's fixed,' he spoke -

But when he rose to walk away,

Arrived a band of folk.

'You're truly warmly welcome here

To while away the night -

We're monks,' they said, 'and living near,

As well as brothers might.'

With thanks, the man inclined his head,

And through the dusky gloom -

He followed where the Abbot led,

Who showed him to a room.

But when he tried to sleep, he found

A noise that started small -

The most surprising, splendid sound

Emerging through the wall.

It made him think of sirens song -

The secret chimes of Mars -

The shrouded space where dreams belong -

The voice beyond the stars.

It made him think of love and peace -

The hidden world behind -

The perfect place where problems cease

To vex the waking mind.

The morning broke.

The man awoke;

'What was it, monks?' he cried.

'Alas, we cannot say,' they spoke -

'You're not a monk,' they sighed.

'I have to know!' the man explained,

And so, without remorse -

He joined the house, and prayed and trained,

To find the noise's source.

He took the Test of Absent Bliss;

The Woes of Anguish Drowned -

He braved the Gulf of Faith's Abyss -

And all to find the sound.

And when he'd pained and strained and bled,

And most his life had passed -

'You're ready now,' the others said,

'To see the source at last.'

They took him where the air was fair,

And where, inside a trunk...

I'd love to tell you what was there.

Alas, you're not a monk.