Even those who dream of saving
the world have no choice
but to promote with equal enthusiasm
their hopes as much as illusions,
never fully in charge of every little glitch
that follows. And naturally,
by being pro-active they're bound
to reveal as well their personal
little big spot of vulnerability. And so
the trembling in their voices is heard
right through the sense of purpose
and it sounds as clearly as
the aims proclaimed.

That is why even to try to reach out
can get discouraging sometimes.
Surely enough, things happen.
There's always someone else watching
from under the cover of darkness
and what they set themselves out to do
is meant to come down as a total surprise.
That one time only,
they will make us loose our ground
before we learn how to deal with
what we have been dealt.

Little big spot of vulnerability
comes in different shapes and sizes;
although, it sits right under the skin
like a vein, similar to a vein
filling a fault in a rock. It is distinctive
and specific in nature. And it shows
right through anything done as the one
disposition that hasn't been dealt with – yet.

A little big spot of vulnerability, for instance,
could convey an addictive behaviour
or an insatiable need to be acknowledged
for whatever the price to be paid,
the price which is easily spotted by those
who study our efforts
from under the cover of darkness.

Vulnerability is made of what we
have not yet mastered. Like
how to say "no" to a wave of excitement
and "yes" to an offer that can't be refused.
That little big spot inside is marked by
what we have failed to see.
What we have missed
is being examined by others
from under the cover of darkness.

That's why, it's best to
get on with our lives and not to fear
what we already know we have.
Since every weakness, we've acknowledged,
is no longer there to be used by others
to bring us down - by surprise.
Self-awareness is our best
line of defence and a marvel
of soul engineering, erected slowly
like the Great Wall of China
(the only singular, man-made structure
visible from the outer space).
So certainly, that is not
where the assault will come from.

The blow that makes the confidence crumble
will come from under the Emperor's nose,
connived where the children play
and where the gathering of noblemen
let their feet be washed.
His Majesty's inner circle
would have traced his little big spot
of vulnerability while
under the cover of darkness.
He could not have prepared for that,
even if crazed by his own suspicions.

Our little big spot of vulnerability
cannot be assumed by proxy
nor can it be escaped.
It can't be concealed from view
and it can't be ignored.
It is the very next thing we
are bound to learn about ourselves
in the School of Hard Knocks.
It is our very own personalized lesson.

And yet, my friend, nobody's going to
make you discover that little big
spot of yours if you don't give a damn
for the distance that
needs to be travelled; and,
if you choose to go round in circles
like a merry-go-round.
Your own state of mind is
at stake and not mine.
That's your character
disallowing a breath of respite.
I see you clearly since you're not far away
from where I've been making
my rounds. None the less,
there's nothing each of us can do
about the other's distance travelled.

I have been watching
the face of our country change
following the end of
the Cold War. Countless billions
of dollars in public funds withdrawn
arbitrarily from subsidized housing,
whereas only the wolves and
the herds of buffalo thrive
in this climate without shelter.
Central administration,
like a pack of dissolute wolves,
has gone on a winter hunt
in search of partizan grease,
and yet, we intend to mark
the ballots convinced
of feeding only the lesser of evils.
We are a peace-loving nation
and surely, pollsters
know it better than we do.

Camouflaged by a newsprint smudge
our leaders' posturing speaks louder
than their pronouncements.
We are but a piecemeal revenue,
my fellow registered voters,
blinded by a media blizzard
sweeping over the party platforms
presumably greater than
our physical presence. There's
the call of the national this,
and of the national that,
while daily cost of living
is chasing Aurora Borealis
across the Northern sky.
Ours is a resilient nation hardened
by the recurring nightmare
of accidental falling
during the longest ever march
on Disneyland.

That is not good enough for me.
Not good enough! It wasn't
for my fellow artist, Vincent,
who did it with his own razor-blade,
and like myself,
sold just one painting during
his turbulent lifetime.

But mostly,
Catholic men have little if any exposure
to purification from sin by surgery.
That's why they don't seem to understand
how to take responsibility for
other people's mistakes
the way circumcised men do –
whether they liked it or not.

Not that there's any particular
need for earlobes, anyway,
other than to enhance sounds
like the rattle of my
fridge at night,
resulting in sleep deprivation,
not to mention the banging noises
of container trucks along Main Street
combined with the head-splitting
sounds of an ambulance.

The act of the earlobecission
should be legally permitted
in hospitals,
neat and clean, done
with little pain and no loss of blood.

No longer would
the boys of my faith have to
endure having their ears
rubbed by a school teacher,
the preacher, or any
bossy demoralizer.

Aside from that, having their earlobes cut
would give Catholic men the most
compelling reason
to look for nontraditional glasses,
well fitting hats,
and a new style of headphones
helping the economy grow
with a brand new blessing.