You wish the feast would last forever,
but then it would rot inside you.
You wish the hurricane would not hit the land,
but the land-goers kill the sea worse.
Catapulted without wings,
when delusion keeps you stuck in a blue room.
A liar hides in a tomb,
and so does a truthteller,
stuck with lies.
Anger tears you apart; it’s despair.
Anger tears others apart; it’s violence.
But they’re identical twins,
regardless
of how they’re shown.
Anger lifts you up into righteous action,
then everyone up with it,
and has no siblings.
Service given to fill oneself
is not for oneself,
and not for the other.
Service given only to others
is not for others
but for oneself only.
Two legs of the same body.
True service isn’t service at all.
It is doing itself,
living spontaneously,
never holding anyone down
or thrusting anyone up
without the ground itself
dissolving—
and then you’re a bird
on accident.