| Wan-Sze: |
I can't decide whether this poem is saying something profound or nothing at all. |
| Will: |
(scratching his nose) Poems don't "say" anything – the way we approach them is paramount. |
| Nadia: |
Шарлатан! Шарлатан! (coughing) Ah, I disagree. The author is attempting to say something, but recognizes no one is interested. |
| Kasim: |
(yawning) . . . I'm getting bored. Can we turn the page? |
Men are dickheads –
or perhaps buddhas
waiting to awaken instead.
Dust covers most human hearts,
yet we also have a capacity to learn
and make fresh starts.
Humans have so much crap in their brains,
yet we also have a seed of greatness
that should not be disdained.
Each person can be seen
in so many different ways:
fool – savant,
heroic – villain,
brave – cowardly . . .
of what use is labeling?
Let us meditate
and return to our original simplicity:
Let us transform our consciousness
from a boisterous "I" –
into a more beautiful "we".
