The River (aka One’s Nature)


You have surely heard of the story
with the scorpion and the swan.
And you have surely heard it
as it should be told by people.
The birdbrained swan – you never think that he deserved it because he didn’t know better.
The scorpion that didn’t know what else to do – you hold no grudge against him.
That, which could be a little prayer
to Truth,
They soak with the malodorous stamp of stupidity and ignorance
Those who know how to invent myriad ways
To brush all responsibility off their shoulders.
“I was the swan, I knew naught” they tell you
and reach out with their begging arm.
And you have just barely learned, you
can no longer deny the offer.
You took a bite of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge
and exiled yourself from neutrality.
You now know the miserable good and the one-way evil
And you must sympathize
And you must pay good care because you are no more worthy of sympathy.
“I was the scorpion, it’s what I do” they tell you
and they expect understanding
While you are still tasting their bitter gift on your lips.
That is their nature, that was their nature when they stung you
And that is what they will say when they do it again.
And if they have no regrets now, they will then have no compassion either
Because the next time, you will have truly allowed for it to happen.

Whoever feels comfortable in this story, you should know,
Dubs you king with a thorny crown,
Adorns you with all your self-serving duty
And all his own responsibilities.
However, you shall find the way, the feeble,
The exquisite and the aseptic way
To humbly stand before them both
To crawl underneath the nature they annunciate
And with no joy or compassion
Become the river.

P.S. If you don’t know the story, you may find it here.

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