Understanding is "figuring out."
Understanding is "words."
I heard a rumor:
understanding a person
will give me peace of mind.
"Ask not to be understood,
but to understand."
Ask for neither.
When I look you in the eye,
when I say good morning, I forget
you're a universe of mysteries
upon a universe of mysteries
even unto yourself, even when you
look yourself in the eye.
"If something is not hidden
it cannot be found."
Understanding is a cripple.
I am talking about the person I cherish,
I am talking about a stranger, a man with a face
made to annoy me, to sandpaper my brain
every time I think of him, a woman in a scarf
I pass on the street & am sure is the one, a woman
I never saw before & will never see again,
though we both live to 95.
I will understand none of them.
Understanding is a city of sand.
Understanding is blind, deaf, mute, lost,
meandering the sandy cliff.
No, it's going to take something way way beyond
understanding, one of those impossible things
that make understanding look like a drooling idiot
in a sandbox in the rain.
Going out among human beings
believing that understanding
will get my soul where she needs to be
going out to build a house
with a sackful of tools made of sand.
Please love understanding.
It cannot help itself.
Have compassion for understanding.
It is doing the best it can.
Have mercy on understanding.
It is not the one saying all those
impossible things about itself,
about what it is, and what it can do,
and what it can bring.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Posted by Richard Martin.... at 11:29 PM