The Path Taken

 
The Path Taken
 
There's neither a heaven nor a hell that waits
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 strive for what we feel is best,
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 light and darkness, coupled each to each.
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.
 
So also: “good” and “evil”; fog and clarity;
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.
 
*****
 
We humans often think that we’re unique—
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.
 
We walk alone and yet at times we find
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.
 
2022 August 30^th, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Gotama Got it Right

 
Gotama Got it Right
 
When you're filled with fear or want
Or raging for a fight,
Then pause to breathe, remembering
Gotama got it right.
 
Observe the fear or want or rage
And watch it rise and crest—
Then feel it ebb, like the lunar tide
That circles east to west.
 
The tide—it harks to the call of the moon,
But what propels a mood?
In quietude, the whisper’s heard—
Along with the urging rude.
 
The world “outside” and the thoughts “inside”—
They speak and are heard in turn—
And we respond—as the fire may dim
Or flame with the breeze and burn.
 
The body-mind, when so observed,
Is understood in time—
And its turbulence is slowly calmed
As things begin to rhyme.
 
So our actions flow from calm within—
And so enhance the peace.
The past and future cede to now.
We savor then some ease.
 
2022 August 26^th, Fri.
Berkeley, California
 

 

Does Money Rule?

   
Does Money Rule?
 
“Money rules the world that ‘men’ have made.”
And who among us can resist its sway?
And yet, does money have a body, mind—
Or sense of self? It's truly men who rule—
Along with women—in proportion less
By far than what their even share could be.
 
So men (and women—some) with money rule.
The rest of us are “subjects” of these kings
(Or queens, at times)—and subject to their wills.
The pound and rifle, dollar teamed with bomb—
And now perhaps some other pairings too—
Are instruments by which our masters rule.
 
******
 
Are poorer people richer than the rich
In virtue? Do the rich have more of vice?
That's hard to say. It could be true—or not.
Wealth and power—these go hand in hand,
Magnifying vice and virtue, both.
The rich have potence that the others don't.
 
No matter. Money does not rule the world;
The ones with money—they're the ones who do,
For better or for worse. The issue is:
No ruler could exist without the ruled.
In this, we've mostly been completely fooled.
So kings were deified—as magnates are.
 
2022 August 26^th, Fri.
Berkeley, California
 
 

I, Coward

 
I, Coward
 
From seeing what addictions do to men
And women, I had stayed away
From many things that draw us humans in—
But now I peck and stare at bright-lit screens.
 
******
 
I'm caught within a world I did not make,
Except at times by following the trend—
I thing that I'd resisted all my life,
Despite the lures of “going with the flow”.
 
I've held to my convictions and my code,
Not making prime the interest in self
And self-advancement that has long prevailed—
And this had helped me in my course of life.
 
I'd viewed the world, it seemed, with clarity,
And so made choices based on “what was right”—
Although I knew the limits to my sight—
Or learned of it, with due humility.
 
To “swim against the tide” is hard enough—
But even harder when there's turbulence.
Exhaustion and confusion drain one's strength.
I once was brave but now am filled with dread—
 
******
 
For when the conflicts in my inner self
Began, as duties clear became opposed,
I could no longer act with a conscience clear
And bear the consequence as I had done.
 
So those decisions, that involved a choice
Of leaving either one or other kin,
I could not make—and so was paralyzed
Until compelled to choose—with a heavy heart.
 
And ever since, I've been so anxious, tense—
Whenever conflicts rose or could be seen
Arising on the road ahead that I
Would lapse again to depths of cowardice.
 
“A brave one dies but once; a coward dies
A thousand deaths”. And this, I've realized—
As every day, I wake—not touched by hope,
But fear instead—as dawn brings deeper night.
 
******
 
What remedy is there for cowardice—
When basic discipline has broken down?
I wish I knew. I’ve tried to face the fear
And live with it—as I have done so far.
 
But how much longer can I live in dread?
And how much longer can I put on hold
The acts of living, as I’ve done for long?
And what, for others, is the consequence?
 
In all my years, I’ve had my share of woe,
Have suffered losses, wept and smiled again,
Have labored, struggled, savored small success—
But now, for twenty years, I've dug this well.
 
******
 
And more and more I now distract myself
With things that seem of little consequence—
And so avoid the acts that dredge up all
That makes me panic. So the tension builds.
 
2022 Aug 15, Mon.
(on the 75^th anniversary
of India's independence)
Berkeley, California