July 01, 2009

I don't have to have a story.

It's difficult to mind the path.
Divide a monk by ten laymen
to find your ten percent.
We are the same five elements.
We are forty sleepless nights.
Feeble. Ferocious.
Brilliant. Boisterous.
Puffed up. Pious.
Ignorant. Vexatious.
Arrogant. Useless.
Liars and loons, lapdogs,
landlubbers and luminaries,
right and wrong,
we are the same.
A dozen orange lilies, eight
pearls and a chunk of coal--
we are the same, clinging;
we are the same, letting go.
Devoted to distraction,
driven and drowning,
gasping and grasping at air, still
suffering, still minding the words:
love your enemies like yourself,
I don't have to have a story.
We are the same.


Paul said...

Fantastic. And wonderful. And fabulous too.

Paul said...

And doubly and triply fabulous with more reading. A truely wonderful poem, wise, clever, beautifully crafted. You are a poet, Agnes. And all the nay sayers are only jealous. This is a work of great beauty.

Agnes said...

I have naysayers? ::shock:: The devil you say! Ha. Thanks, Paul.