Don’t be attached to your intentions for your own words, for they come with a sliver of suffering. Whether you intended for them to be very abstract or hyper specific, they are like paper mâché. They will bend and bounce and break, and might even get vengeful over time.
At the same time, don’t think they are not important. Like time, they can’t be wasted. They are the best tools we have to offset the fear of today and the worship of tomorrow. They give us humor and paper duck. They prod us with obtuse philosophical questions and cautionary tales. They breakup with us with tender instructions. They give us a sense of justice and delineate right and wrong. They are the language of dogs, if dogs didn’t bark, because they are loyal like monks on mountains.
Just remember to not give two fucks and a moon about them.
(Found poem from Angel City Zen Center writing workshop, September 15, 2018.)