The Price Of Interest

If a family member is sick,

The remaining family members

Take notice.

 

The sicker the person,

The more they take notice.

 

If on the verge of death,

Other things fall by the wayside.

 

When sickness or death

Does not obviously loom,

There are only

The Other Things.

 

When sickness or death

Does not obviously loom,

There is room

And time

For conflict.

 

This must be done.

That must be done.

Late for this.

Forgot that.

 

The child

Has little interest

In a healthy parent.

 

Friends,

Phones,

The bells and whistles of the world

Are a consuming attraction.

 

There is not enough time,

Not enough bells and whistles,

Not enough lights and colors

To satisfy.

 

The price of Interest

Is sickness

Or death.

 

This is the threshold

That must be met,

To pull a human

From his Other Things.

 

In the moments

Of sickness or impending death,

The relationship takes on

A different complexion.

 

Softness,

Kindness,

Agreeability,

Mercy . . .

 

When sickness or death

Does not obviously loom,

Such things

Are far-off luxuries.

 

Because they are not required.

 

If it is not required,

A human will not do it.

 

Essentially,

Human lives

Are a frenzy of distraction.

With occasional breaks

For things that are sufficiently worthy

To temporarily suspend the addiction

To bells and whistles.

 

Things spoken clearly

Are too harsh for the human ear,

And too troublesome for the human mind.

 

“I am hopelessly attracted

By the things of the world.

I have nothing to say to you.

But if you become gravely sick,

Or are on the verge of death . . .

Let me know.

Apologies,

But this is the price

Of my interest.”

 

This is the power

Of the World.

 

This is the power

Of its bells and whistles.

 

Nothing . . .

Survives its torrent.

 

Relationships,

Are a dime-a-dozen . . .

 

Truth,

Freedom,

Realization

Are a comical spiritual fairy tale . . .

 

Collateral damage . . .

Of an addiction

To the world.

 

Namaste.