‘The Problem to be explored: The Problem of Abundance:’
Nothing lasts anymore, nothing seems meaningful anymore, nothing feels wanted anymore,
Except for the already lost and gone, and can’t be retrieved.
It seems everything is given without being asked for.
You’ll only notice something when it's not there:
Perhaps:
“My cup must be empty once again in order to receive.”
I have suddenly forgotten where I have just heard
This being said in a prayer but I think it is the key, the answer
To the needless and senseless suffering of our herd
But, its truth stuck with me, and I too wonder
I too think I must be silent again to allow the singing once more
I too think I must become the void to welcome the replenishing wave
Of excitement
Of the need to climb while weighed down by life’s
Various impossibilities, and mystery
And not float thus, away
Fallen to the what Milan Kundera
Described perfectly in his title:
“The Unbearable Lightness of Being”
Our cup runneth over, and we are left to wander
With the grains of time, and consciousness
Escaping through our desperate fingers
As we rush towards a mirage of permanence
While scorching our feet on the sand and deserts
Burnt by an ever more present sun
And the tedium of golden overabundance
Ancient wisdom dictates that:
“What is useful is not the cup,
But the void that’s ready to receive
The already full need no more
And its further worth deceives”
“Reunion of too long must not last
Separation is inevitable
Separation will always be short-lived
Reunion is unavoidable”
Now, that’s some wisdom to heed
The Union of Lovers will need
‘The Problem of Too Much Goodness’
We are always questioning the Problem of Evil
While too few words lend to the Terror of Good
Everything is living longer and longer
Yet
Everything is dying quicker and quicker
It really is “the best of times”
It really is “the worst of times”
While
Our flesh savours a never before longevity
Our soul is aging rapidly at an alarming rate
This is A Tale of Two Realities:
Where Time is both a child
With an almost non-existent attention span
And the world its vast endless sandbox
A toy is too quickly loved and so immediately
Discarded
Where Time is also senile
With an almost non-existent memory reserve
With the ancient past constantly retold in nostalgia
And the immediate events of rapid currents
Dissipated
There are still so much hunger and terror in
The modern world
Of course, the well-fed, warless, and unmarked
are being overlooked
But there is a hidden, yet imminent gloom
A spectre hanging above the peaceful and full:
‘The Problem of the Need to be Desired’
We are beings made with one innate desire
To climb, to reach a height ever higher
And one day
Above all
Throughout history,
There has always been way too much
Obstacles
For the mass to reach the summit
And now,
It seems that the summit itself is built
By a stack of the masses
So many of us are great
That none of us is great
Therefore, so quickly forgotten
And replaced by others in
Time
Speaking of time,
Or rather, our conscious
Awareness of change
It seems to be overused,
Weary and
DYING
As a dying old man in mind
Resembles a stubborn child
Our Collective Temporal Consciousness
Is thus
So forgetful like a senile being
And
Losing interest so quickly like an infant
Our cup, our mind is so full
That not only our flesh has become
That of gluttons complaining the
Blandness of an abundance of food
Our soul is also yearning for the
Quiet performance and desirability
Only a lack of supply could supply
So, in effect, GOODNESS
Or WELLNESS
Have somehow oversupplied
Itself till
It is almost worthless to
Some
What is there to reach
If so many have already found
The Summit of Everything?
That we are among the masses
Again?
And, what about those that have
Risen above THE MASS
So early in their life
That to them, there is only space
To fall?
In the past,
We were all so close to the pit
The Pit of Darkness
The Pit of Death
In our climb
That we hold on to every branch
For dear life
No matter how many stones
Fall on us
We look down upon the void
And the black
Abyss
And will always
Sink our nails deeper
Into the earth
Just to stay alive
And still,
To no avail
So quickly,
We all fall
To pitied, and
Dearly treasured and mourned
Demise
And,
Now,
For the hurt
And the healed
And the unmarked
Life marches on mercilessly
Indifferent to us
The bodies crawling and crouching
Upon the desert of abundance
Row upon row
Chased by the sandstorm
That will soon catch up to us
And sweep over all
Where will it take us,
And what before then?
What would cure and stop
This perpetual climb that will
Always place those on top
At the bottom of this crushing hill
The Possible Solutions:
‘How will we quench the thirst of Height?’
We did not witness THE BIRTH OF TIME
We cannot halt THE AGING OF TIME
We cannot know what comes after
THE DEATH OF TIME
But we desperately need a constant climb
Here, we see the Gates to Two Routes
One leading towards the Tangible
Garden of Men
One leading towards the Unseeable
Temple of Worship
There is no right or wrong way to either
However, how you spend your time
Within each
Will determine your plight during
The time before the True Flight
Pace yourself in your walk through
The Garden of Men
Though there is an abundance of fruits
You must calculate and ration
Your own sustainable share of
Good and Evil
Enjoyment and Suffering
So you don’t exhaust the reserve
Or become weary till nausea
Of the sweetness of being
If you must seek to rise up above all
Your climb must be timed till the very end
Where you will never be crushed by the fall
On the Rota Fortunae, before you inevitably land
The Supply and Demand of Good and Evil
Must be balanced even if by the hands of men
Lest the world turn to well-rested upheaval
When even gold is as abundant as sand
Then, there is the Pave to the Promised Land
Where lost souls of ****** hunger find
Their means to an end, their helping hand
Where fulfilled bodies of lost souls and minds
Pleads to have their invisible suffering end
I used to think that Grace lives in humility
But I see even the Truth appeals to the nature,
Foolish frailty and vanity of all women and men
How do you tell the beings of imminent demises
That this earthly supply and demand of status
Is worthless in the end in a paradise without ends
Where there is no fall for a fear to plummet and land
But to say the weakest of earth
Must be the strongest of heavens
The least of the timely and impermanent possessions
Will be the most in the place after the ultimate ascension
Not to imprison our desire for greatness
But to set it free and follow the lofty dove and olive branch
Knowing that the great height is achieved by humility
To take the fall and suffering and rise in the Eternal Land
Conclusion:
The painful truth is,
And truth must hurt through the bones,
And ache seasonally to not be forgotten
There must be a Supply and Demand of Good and Evil
By our humble minds or divine hands
For honesty to be wanted, and prized
And not worthless like the ocean sand
Lest we become weary of virtue and crave for its end
There are solutions for all,
For those who put faith in life
And
For those who put faith in an afterlife
Simply, though,
It is ever difficult
Just to pace your climb
Either to reach the summit at the end of your life
Or just to leave the height to the ever lofty place without time.
Where you’ll never fall to a late demise
And be crushed by the Rota Fortunae
Where even the stars would envy
The brilliance of your
Light
Another stream of consciousness that poured itself out of my unkempt mind. I started with a very vague idea and the title and thesis only came in the midst of this essay, or trial of thought. It is again, pages long. And special thanks to Lawrence Hall to help me proofread this mess of my mind.
I think my mind is finally taking a break from forming words, phrases, and sentences, and I for once, welcome this quietness, thought I always fear my silence, fearing I'll never write again.
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The Supply and Demand of Good and Evil
By: Yitkbel Yue Xing ****
Monday, October 14, 2019, Canadian Thanksgiving
15:03-17:22(Finished Writing First Draft)