by Chi-hwan Yu
When I die,
I will become a rock,
never touched
by compassion, joy or anger.
While being torn down by wind and rain,
It will only whip itself inwards
in eternal, impersonal silence,
and at last forget its own existence;
Floating clouds, distant thunder!
Though it may dream, it will never sing.
Though broken in piece,
it will never utter a word.
It will become such a rock.
SOURCE: Best Loved Poems of Korea, 1984
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"If someone were to pay you 10 cents for every kind word you ever spoke and collect from you 5 cents for every unkind word, would you be rich or poor?"
- Anonymous