27- I did the thing

table of contents

***

again,

where I

didn’t write in here

for a lot of years,

I forget how many exactly.

And I did the thing

where I turned some things into people

(fish, this time, in a twilight terrain)

and built a village for ‘em

but didn’t do that much ruling

or making laws

or reading speeches this time,

I mostly left them to themselves

so I could watch them,

figure out,

how did people cope

with doing the best with what they’ve got?

How did they not all

go at each other’s throats

to get more stuff for themselves?

Well.

I didn’t write in here

for ages

because I wanted to skip straight to the answer,

instead of scrawling years of questions and observations

and rambly, analytical pages.

And after these years

of watching

and wondering

and waiting

I found this

thing

that was there the whole time

that feels bigger than words

but also simpler than a revelation

and I’m hyping it up too much, just:

the fish people didn’t treat themselves as independent. Or alone.

The fish people were like little bits of one big fish working together.

At least, some of them.

Some of them got treated like cancer

and kicked out.

But some of them

helped out their sick ones,

and the sick ones said thank you,

and the cold ones

came to another’s fire

and the ones with the fire

invited them to dance,

and some of them built houses

and grinned like stupid bees

when someone said they liked it

and I think the answer is

I gotta quit being such a cynic

about existence

and scoffing

at lame fire building skills

and a sideways house

and just look

at the people

doing the building

and do the thing

where you stick out your hand

or fin

or voice

or whatever you have

and show you care

and hope they smile–

because I think

happiness

isn’t a thing you find for yourself

I think

it’s a thing

you give others

and no one

gets to be happy

if no one’s giving it,

and no one gives

if everyone’s afraid of the cost on their heart.

And I think that’s how the cynics happen,

they keep given’

without gettin’

and come to despise that they can’t take back what they gave

no matter how much they try to tear

strangers open

and rip the happiness clean free

for themselves–

happy

ain’t

a

Yara-ma-yha-who

food source,

it’s just an alien

that transforms

only on the surface of a soul

it wasn’t born in

into a grinning werewolf,

and you can’t

bring it back home

without changing it

to an inert form–

that’s how the cynics happen,

they ain’t afraid to give

until everyone who is afraid

just keeps taking

and then

the givers shut down

and get mad

and want it back

and want it over

and want someone

to finally give somethin’ back

so they get

what everyone’s grinning about.

***

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