To The Disciples... Poem by RIC BASTASA

he always tells them
you are not just horses that are led to the brook to drink water
to satisfy your thirst,
not just empty glasses where hot water is poured
where some goes into an expected breaking
you are not just shirts and pants to be buttoned and unbuttoned
not just headgears to be worn and displayed in school
not just any knife to be sharpened
or pencils

you are not my things
not the objects but will always be subjects with minds of your own
with destinies already reserved at the end
there is nothing to worry, even if you do not believe it,
everything is written,
there are already maps, and what we do is merely to read them
and find out where those treasures lie

as Socrates once in his short life emphasized
he is just the midwife and you are those pregnant women
you shall bear the children
move them out from your system
hear their first cries
and feed them and see them grow
ah, not to be really like you

i am just the spring and you are the great rivers
i am just the spectator and you are the actors of the show
i am the shadow and you are the bodies
you are all suns, and i shall be the moon that will cast that borrowed light
into that earth.

so long, be good,
take all the chances
till we meet again
adios.