its not the pain the incision of life
the cut that opens the heart to truth
the maybes that could hold the way
or some other paradigm taught and told
a made up desire reliant on hope
if only pandora had hidden the key
and the carpenter was a builder of ships
instead of a story lost in time
the pinch of pain from arrow to heart
what sends it causes the greater dearth
a wantoness to be without dukka or need
and yet it remains and therefore i am