Sometimes I feel like
all the ultra-attitudinal, egotistic, boastful people
should be pushed into the river.
Then I remember
I shouldn’t give that much freedom to my mind
to make me violent.
There wouldn’t be any difference
between them and me.
I feel like hurling stones at them,
but soon I remember
flowers blooming between thorns,
mountains becoming furious with glaciers.
I can quietly stand somewhere
and think about detaching myself from these feelings,
pray that I shouldn’t be exposed to such people.
But taking the path of compassion
is not easy.
It should be voluntary.
Oh, am I not just pressing all my anger
under the veil of compassion and kindness?
I know fighting with pigs will make me dirty,
but I say it’s worth fighting with pigs
than with another human.
Trying to argue with them,
trying to make them understand,
will just be as futile
as adding water to a leaking container.
The water keeps dripping,
and they keep you tripping
like a tripwire.
And sometimes
there is no way to get rid of them
as easily as pushing them into the river.
If they swim and survive,
they will bring a typhoon into your life.
Keeping your distance from the crocodiles
is the best thing you can do.
But sometimes I wonder,
am I really choosing compassion,
or am I just pressing my anger
behind a kinder face?
Leave a comment