A poem about compassion

We think we are brilliant

when we see others’ wrong side.

We treat them rough;

we ignore their shine.

As if life wasn’t hard enough,

we forget to note when they’re right.

And that’s what we’ve become:

Judges of the weak and fragile.

We feel strong and tough.

We forget our own troubled times

without which we wouldn’t have seen the light.

It seems that the one who goes mad

is the one who can eventually turn wise.

For those who stay in safe lands:

They seem sane, but they lack insight.

We should honour a good crazy laugh

as it is the inner fire lighting the night.

It is beautiful and incredibly sad

how much we can’t see with our eyes.

When the moon is dark,

there is no interest on our part.

But when the moon is helped by the sun,

we quickly find its charms.

We taste their mutual love filling the sky.

Help each other, pals,

and we will all learn to fly.

Or at least, we will go forward

away from where the Lonely die.

Clinging to old dogmas

doesn’t allow us to thrive.

Try to remember that before you criticize.

I hope

I shall.