Knowing where I should stand is to know where to sit
And to love what I’m doing as I’m resting there.
If I claim to be upright I may not stand tall
Next to almost all others. If I can recall
That uprightness is relative then I’m aware
Of a more refined justice to our benefit.
I like keeping my eyes open to everything
In the vastness around me without the debris.
An oil painting of real life shows nothing obscene
Unless shades of the fake life have made the heart mean.
Both portrayals prepare the observer to see
Which is preferable and what peace it may bring.
More decisively active I am when relieved
Of the clutter the lens catches due to high speed.
Slowing down is effective, but crap is still there
And should I magnify that, I’m blind with despair.
When it gets a good cleansing, my spirit is freed.
Wider vision becomes a dream fully achieved.
Much more focus on standing than feeling at ease
Inflicts harm on the body if it carries weight
That surpasses its limit. The need to reduce
The big buildup of baggage and vain self-abuse
Becomes evermore urgent in these times of hate.
Indeed, one has no one but oneself to appease.