As one of many,
I played the middle.
Do you know how delicate it is
to have no opinion?
To be voiceless.
To suppress the ‘within’ in order
to not get smacked by the
Getting smacked hurts.
Maybe I deserved it.
Who is this ‘I’ ?
It does not matter. It is just
Who is this victim,
it does matter. In a totally
non-personalized sense: It matters, doesn’t it?
We care most about the people we don’t know!
Inter-family love is gorgeous. We learn to see eye-to eye.
Intra-family love does not go away. It’s impossible.
The victim is everyone.
Even when the little ‘i’ gets suppressed
There is no way to ‘right’ a wrong.
There’s only to love.
There’s only to voice.
There’s only ho’pono’pono.
The middle is a fiddle
and once all the stagnation gets
broken up, once… then… oh, we’ll see.
Then we’ll re-arrange words
and hang up “Beauty” and “Love” Signs,
again. For now,
we’ve got bleeding.
The middle has blood.
Playing the middle is not the path.
Buddha suggests the center.
No one said, “don’t have an opinion”
They only implied it.
Tough Shit.I have blood, and skin. a beating heart.
I will use it ALL to say:
I Love you.
Please forgive me.