Thursday, August 17, 2006

To my son

You will realize this wisdom, son
When you are my age, and experience,
Gained from being in dire situations,
Yet, being out of it. Son, you do the same,
There is joy in detachment,
Forsaking instant pleasures, pains,
For things deeper and more enduring.

This world isn’t black and white
But shades of grey, punctured with black
Because I gave you freedom
Don’t assume strange men are as generous.
Don’t be a slave to the work
Of smart slave-drivers in confined spaces,
Instead explore the works of men,
Who have experienced the truths,
And distilled in their words, wisdoms,
Which may grate your ears now.

Like me, don’t be prey to sudden,
Rushes of anger that comes over cables,
And with emails and posts demolish,
Without thinking of consequences -
I have done that and am living to regret.

Choose friends wisely, son, wisely choose enemies,
Don’t drink bottled and sealed lifestyles
Its sugar, water and carbon dioxide
Will dither you, disorient you, and sap you.
And don’t eat fast food with loose change,
They will suck you into their assembly line.

Lastly do not try to see with darkened eyes,
And hear with deaf ears, keep them open.
Those digital beats and rhythm can corrupt,
And make sinning and dizzy highs seem so tempting.
The age of innocence, son, is gone by, in another age,
Every man unto himself is a mercenary awaiting chance.

If you follow this advise, son,
When you are mature and wise as me
You will say, one day, “Thank you Papa,
For at least speaking your words of advice,
To my children, too, I will pass on these words.”

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