How A Yogi Bears the Weight
Somewhere on Mount Potalaka,
beyond the din of electronica,
I might just find my long-lost forbearance.
Parents point to patience,
the apparent paramount virtue,
and we children heed them rarely,
going on then to unfairly
scold the progeny of our own.
Attention deficit disorder,
or a negligent epithet for the borderline
where our arrogant, ailing acceptance
seems to end?
An undercurrent of irritability
tends us toward such rashness,
bends us over backward, unabashed.
The sparse stipend of clemency
left to us, we must spend
so very carefully.
Avalokiteshvara sought to mend
this rending
of compassion and the human heart.
A brief caesura for breath,
for thought,
ought at least to give us a start
in the right direction.
In such a fight as the deflection
of selfishness and the defense of love,
every second counts.
To pounce upon the knee-jerk
inclination to lash out
when you find all your buttons pushed
may, in an instant,
undermine a mindful lifetime's worth
of kindness.
Blindness of the heart
is our affliction.
Dictionary definition
of interpersonal emotional disaster
is a depiction of a closed-off
individual.
Mere, residual sensitivity
and a dastardly proclivity
to think only of oneself
are all that all-too-often remain
in the wake of prolonged exposure
to inherited traumatic pain.
In the way that a single grain
of sand or mote of dust
may bring a landslide down
upon a hapless, happy homestead,
innocence may be stopped dead
in its tracks
by one sadistic theocrat.
"Sins of the father," and all of that.
Eternally, a master-in-training
keeps in mind
that he knows nothing
of the long, hard roads
that strangers walk.
Rather than judge,
in harshness,
the sour fruit of a twisted tree,
we must tend first to the soil
and let the once-spoiled roots
be free.
Like you,
I'm desperate to put
this type of wisdom into practice,
but the world
looks so undeserving
when it's viewed from a tilted axis.
I rotate,
around and around
all my same old moral failings
without a care
for all the spiteful curses
I'm exhaling.
If we wish to radiate
a light to banish
hate and fear,
we'll have to first learn how
to cease polluting the spiritual atmosphere
for all our peers.
Dissect your own
age-old psychic pain,
and watch that of others
disappear.
About the Creator
Jacob Sherman
The desire to read, and perhaps to write, should be cultivated and nurtured with care throughout every stage of life. For my part I will inject what strangeness and truth that I can into our written history. Expect no constants but honesty.
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