Tag: acceptance

Confucian Cup

The Master said: “A cup not a cup: A cup indeed! A cup indeed!”
-Confucius, Analects VI.24

The best thing I could ever be
Is a cup.
                I wish to be filled
With all that destiny will pour;
I wish to hold it all, and yet
Be nothing more than the vessel,
Be able to pour it all out,
Be capable of emptiness,
Yet still the same exact vessel.

Let me fill up with the ideas
And dreams of contemporaries,
Finding methods to mold their shapes,
To hold them each without spilling;
Let them fulfill triumphs with me,
And lift victory to their lips
With me as humble implement, 
One of many who may have helped.

Let me bear the mixtures of fate,
The windfalls and catastrophes,
The tragedies and elations,
Moments of otiose ennui,
Humdrum days into humdrum weeks;
The little words that shouldn't mean
More than laughter and love of life,
A cup with the integrity 
To keep all that held together
Until the time to pour it out.

A cup is perfectly empty:
It can be filled, it can be drained.
It can hold and can toss away.
Fill it, empty it, wash it out;
It's still a cup that's good for use.
When there's nothing at all inside,
Its potential is at its peak.
What a brilliant skill of being,
Bearing it all without a split
Sundering its function and form.

Whether tippling, whether toppling,
Full of nectar or of poison,
A good cup will hold either.
Allow me a way to contain
The good, the bad, and the water,
Our everyday necessity.

I want to be the cup and not
The contents; I want to accept
That and embrace that in my way
As fluid occupies volume.
I want to be the cup, and when
The time is right I can let go
Of anything and everything.
If I am spilled I can refill;
In the end it's not a big deal.
No cup would stress over these things.

We are nothing and nothing more

We are nothing and nothing more:
A thought perhaps, a breath of air,
Contingencies that shift and tear.

Strong or weak or rich or poor,
All are the same who know the fare,
Know we're entitled but to tour
A thought, perhaps a breath of air.

Those who are solid find their core
Is as part of a fleeting share
Of something renewing; so why care
We are nothing and nothing more—
A thought perhaps, a breath of air,
Contingencies that shift and tear.

After the Loss of Miracle the Duckling

The sun descends before a mere
Mortal could ever fathom when,
And that's what fills humans with fear.

Black, indelible ink; the pen
Proscribes loved and unloved while I
Feel the true fear of change again.

These nearly-limitless things vie,
Each one of them so small at birth;
Yet some it sees fit to deny.

Lives inestimable in worth,
Newly born; why do some survive
While others get but days on Earth?

Why is it while they were alive
The bloody blade reaped thereupon
And nothing done could help them thrive?

I hear the doleful singing swan
Echo my thoughts. I must praise.
Even after, new young will spawn.

There will be more ducklings to raise;
Even those we've lost will be kept,
Remembered my remaining days.

And beyond when my windows wept,
They have their niche that they've occupied;
I'm a moment to intercept.

In all my childish, misty-eyed
Attachment I forfeit most sense,
For this is how they've multiplied.

Citification built the fence
Which separates and shelters me.
Life becomes unreal and intense.

Competition is anomie
To one with precious much to lose;
Life and fear in synonymy.

Such is the case for one who views
Constant struggle through rationale
And the tragedy it imbues,

But how could an animal scowl
At the fate of life, its one gift?
They don't see things as fair or foul.

They only know the life they lift
From the seed of their forebears' soil
And the changes of seasons' shift.

They're not averse to earthly toil,
Their being, both parcel and part
Of their place in this mortal coil.

As such there's never loss of heart
For them when tragedy befalls
Their life, the ever-forward dart.

An indomitable will calls
Their spirits onward with elan
Uncomprehending of our galls.

These ducks have but a single plan,
Which is to be what they will be
And to nurture their little clan;

To follow their ancestral tree
With peace wild and docile at once,
My darling ducks, this family.

So even when misfortune hunts,
I trust these ducks will persevere
Through both dreary and merry months.

They could be my teachers of cheer,
Wary for their safety and yet
Unknowing existential fear.

They simply take what they can get.
They remain happy and content,
Though looking out for any threat.

They're unafraid how much is spent,
It's all for life and it's all fair.
That's how nature builds its ascent.

A million generations' wear
Strengthens the very DNA
Which brings all creatures up to bear.

Very little controls the sway
Of fate. But, as their parents had,
They grow confident with each day.

It's like their souls are armor-clad,
Uncrippled by softhearted pain
That never fails to drive me mad.

Nature is indifferent to strain.
Prepared for total loss, it gains.

Replaceability

Peril? Let me tell you what's perilous:
The idea of replaceability;
At surface there's nothing to tell amiss,
But in its irrefutability
It necessitates culpability. 
In our societal lust for progress,
The strong force the responsibility
Down the line onto the many cogs less
Powerful or advanced than these august
Lords of capital. Then when they're displeased
They dispose of people as a process.
That's how they attained the power they've seized.
And sadly it's true, inevitably 
Someone comes to fill the voids that we leave.

The dew is layered upon my windshield

The dew is layered upon my windshield.
The city's blood starts to pump through its veins
Faster, awakening before its yield 
To deadlock before nine o'clock's slow pains;
But I am up early, I'm spared these banes.
I've smoked before the rising of the Sun,
And an abundance of daylight remains
To be enjoyed after my work is done.
Today can be a day to champion
Perseverance of personal designs,
Gratitude for a day that is still young.
So much light and warmth left to trace the lines
Of trouble and struggle toward ascent,
With luck an answer to why we've been bent.