I feel sorry for those who look to groups for solutions
I profoundly pity those who believe in hierarchies
I gently pat the heads of those who believe in power
I pity those who believe that belonging to a nation is a virtue
I pity those who expect morality from religion.
I feel compassion for those who believe in countries
I sympathise with the many childlike souls who place their trust in politicians
I pity the devotees of markets, money, capitalism, socialism, or any other ism
With a tender sadness, I watch those who believe in shared stories
in common tales reshaped a thousand times over millennia
about gods, peoples, nations — how utterly sad.
I regard with profound pity those who believe they are special
I pity those who believe in prayers and in churches
I feel sorry for everyone — those manipulated by propaganda
and I pity those who crave power and manufacture it
I feel sorry for people
I pity those who believe humanity itself is exceptional
I feel sympathy for those who believe they rule the planet
I feel sorry for all of this.
I pity those who believe in spirituality
I feel that what I’m doing — writing poems — is pathetic
I feel sorry for those who believe they deserve more
or consider themselves unique.
This is the Planet of Pity, where tiny humans dream — as I do —
while every step they take is futile.
Occasionally — perhaps one individual in a million —
someone appears who calculates rather than believes
who chooses selflessness over avarice
who measures, observes, records
Perhaps this alone justifies our existence
For had the majority prevailed
we would still dwell in trees and live in caves
like our primate ancestors.
No comments:
Post a Comment