Revising A Belief

sometimes i think of you
and the memory of the boat
docked upon an old port
comes back

there is no sound of rain anymore
when the rain falls and
makes my hair wet

i am not disturbed at all
i begin to smile at myself
and the one who notices me thinks

that i am happy for the world
and at ease with everyone
the old woman who sells cigarettes
is the one that has wisdom

there is nothing really personal in this world
it is all business and so
one must manage his own
keep sympathies and avoid any

unnecessary conflagrations any
entanglements that can cause more
repercussions these self-caused pains
because all the while

you were so stupid enough
to think that love is pure and giving.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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