Nature or Brick

Nature or Brick

 

Nature or brick?

That is the question—

but it is not

the whole question.

 

Not nature alone,

not brick alone.

 

Every brick

I laid upon another

became the wall

of my own making.

Every path

I opened from within myself

was handed over

to my fate.

 

I was clay,

made of the stuff

of seed.

The wind came,

the rain fell,

and the sun

came to rest.

 

The first thread

of my destiny

ran strand by strand—

one thread

in my hand,

one thread

in the hand

of my fate.

 

And in the struggle

of being pulled apart,

strand by strand,

the threads

were either

fleeing,

or caught

in their own collars,

or crying,

 

with patience

and persistence,

and sometimes

desperation,

I shaped

the clay of my nature

into what I became.

 

If the brick

was crooked,

it was not

because the clay

was raw;

it was because

the brickmaker's hand

was unskilled—

or because

other brickmakers

had laid

their own bricks.

 

Your destiny

is nothing

but these very bricks:

those that have settled,

those that have broken—

patience and grace,

wonder and craft.

 

So do not

ask me

what your destiny is.

Ask instead:

with these very bricks,

break upon break,

what house

will you build?

 

Perhaps nature

is simply

what was given

to us

from the beginning.

And perhaps the brick

is what

we add to it,

day after day,

with our own hands.

 

And here we are—

and being—

brick by brick,

still

becoming.

 

 

 

 

سرشت یا خشت

 

سرشت یا خشت؟

،مسأله این است

.اما تمام مسأله این نیست

 

،نه تنها سرشت

.نه تنها خشت

 

،هر خشت که بر خشت نهادم

،دیوارِ نهادم شد

،هر راه که از خود گشادم

.تقدیم تقدیرِ من شد

 

گِل بودم از جنس نطفه

،باد آمد

باران زد و

خورشید نشست؛

 

سررشتۀ سرنوشتم

رشته رشته بود

رشته ای در دست

من

رشته ای در دست

سرنوشت من

 

در کشاکش رشته رشته شدن

رشته ها

یا گریزان

بودند

یا در گریبان

یا گریان

 

با صبر و اصرار

و گاهی

استیصال

گِل سرشتم را سرشتم

 

،اگر خشت کج بود

از خامی خشت نبود؛

از خامی دست خشت ساز بود

از خشت اندازی خشت سازان دگر بود

 

سرنوشتت چیزی نیست

جز همین خشت‌های

نشسته و شکسته

شکیب و شکیل

شگرف و شگرد

 

پس از من نپرس

سرنوشتت چیست؛

بپرس

با همین خشت‌های شکن‌بر‌شکن

چه خانه‌ای می‌سازی

 

،شاید سرشت

همان چیزی‌ست

که از آغاز به ما داده‌اند؛

،و شاید خشت

همان چیزی‌ست

که هر روز

به دستِ خود

بر آن می‌افزاییم

 

و ماییم

و بودن

و خشت‌به‌خشت

در حالِ شدن

 

سهیل خداپرستی