One morning in my portico,
as I sat on my swing,
enjoying the breeze,
hearing the birds sing.
Up on a wall crevice I found,
a spider had cast its web.
An ant struggled to escape from it;
of urgent succour, it was in need.
As the wily spider crept to its prey,
the ant struggled harder, seeing its end.
A bout of nobility struck my head;
I broke the web and saved the ant.
The free ant scampered away.
I went back happily to my swing.
The starving spider, too old
to re-spin, ended up dying.
The ‘web’ of nature is so intricate,
here one’s death is other’s life.
My smug nobility lay rebuffed;
in saving the ant, I took spider’s life.
I always carry a first aid kit
to help anyone in need.
Keen to salve others’ injury:
a small bruise or a mild bleed.
One day in a bus
a man got injured.
Out came my kit to soothe;
he was relieved and I pleased.
But a shocking epiphany
came to me like a flash of light.
Should I be credited for helping
or be blamed for his plight?
The seed of desire carries with it
the hidden tree of its fulfillment.
That man’s injury was just a symptom,
my desire for nobility caused his predicament.
In our current reality,
a doctor is a noble man.
But in a healthy society,
he is a nonentity.
The nobility of curing is
but a consequence of disorder.
It would meet its obsolescence
in neverland and its innate order.
Nobility is extinct in utopia.
It’s born with utopia’s death.
It needs suffering to survive,
and ironically, calamities to thrive.