The Path Taken
As pat for virtue or as rod for vice.
Justice is not served within a life
Or afterward. Our hopes are often dashed
And all our labors blindly set to naught.
And yet we hope for justice for ourselves
And others. This gives meaning to our lives.
We walk upon the road and look ahead—
As otherwise we might as well be dead.
There’s joy and sorrow, pleasure-pain, entwined.
There’s fear and anger, jousting with desire—
And love, compassion with their opposites.
There’s deep attention—and impatient haste.
Truth and falsehood—and what’s in-between;
The stress of conflict—and the grace of peace.
We walk within the pulsing and the breath—
The yang and yin of birthing, life and death.
Forgetting every species also is.
The times we’re in, despite the Internet,
Are full of things that stress and isolate
Us—each from each—or else distract and blind.
A hand that reaches out to us to help
Or just to touch us, so we know that we
Are not alone—and share the sentient plight.
And when we do the same, we share the light.
Berkeley, California
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