mccaferty’s road, Track 6
September 7 – 2022
~ 1,080
I once heard a Hawaiian parable about three brothers
I didn’t hear it while I was in Hawaii with the others
It was when Toronto lived in Tampa Bay, from a guy named Murphy
That’s an odd paradox, I know; like being happy in Hawaii
But I wish I heard this parable while I was there
I wouldn’t have understood it though, to be fair
But like a blackbear, I was always coming down
And it still felt like with every breath I was going to drown
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There once were three brothers, who were adrift on an ocean
Despair was starting to sink in, when, with a single motion
The youngest pointed to the horizon
They all stood up, as their mouths began to widen
The current began to pass by, so they swam to the shore
Cooking some supper, they said tomorrow they would explore
Overjoyed at their rescue, they discovered the island
Was empty of people; but the wildlife was vibrant
That night, as they dreamt, a Demi-god appeared to them
He said that this island was quite the gem
And in the morning they would find, beside them on the beach
Three giant boulders, of equal size; he said in his speech
They were to push the boulders as far as they wished
And there they would spend their days, and possibly fish
There was no catch, there was no monkey’s paw in this sea
But where they lived, that was all of the world they would see
In the morning the three brothers awoke, and to their surprise
Three boulders on the beach, under the bright sunny skies
They had a light breakfast, then investigated
Everything was just as the vision illustrated
The first brother walked up to his boulder
He made a big show of putting his shoulder
Up against the rock, and started to push
He understood he didn’t want to live in the bush
He strained against the stubborn rock
It was large enough to be a roadblock
Slowly, it began to roll forward through the sand
And continued to roll along the edge of the land
It creaked around a corner, and there was a cove
With a deep quiet harbour, surrounded by a grove
The view didn’t show much, only the ocean in front
And the edge of trees to the back, but with a grunt
He stopped, and placed the boulder as a monument
Here the fishing was easy, so he considered it prudent
To build his house here, where there was plenty of food
And swimming for when he was in the mood
The second brother began to stretch and chalk
Up his hands, then placed them on that giant rock
He began to strain, and sweat started to pour down
His back and face, as it twisted into a frown
He pushed it through some deep sand, then into the trees
He pushed it towards the middle, then climbed to feel the breeze
From the top of a tree, he could barely see the beach
But there was an abundance of fruit all within reach
He said that he liked living in the jungle
So here among the fruit trees was the end of his struggle
He could barely see the forest for the trees
But he was a strong climber, and knew where to find the breeze
Standing by himself on the beach in the growing dusk
The third brother approached the rocky husk
He prepared his sinewy frame and leaned into
The rock, and began to push it through the loose sand, too
Sweat poured down his back, as he struggled
To roll the boulder through the trees, then he stumbled
A root caught his foot, but he recovered
And continued to push the stone upward
He rolled it through the jungle, a slight incline
Slowed him down, but he was intent on his designs
He exited the jungle, and reached the base
Of the great mountain that was filling his gaze
Slowly he began to heave the rock up the mountain
All night long, the sweat poured down like a fountain
Blisters formed on his hands and feet
But at this altitude, the sunrise was sugary-sweet
After a few moments rest sitting on a ledge
He continued his ascent, far too close to the edge
The dizzying drop loomed to his right
But he wasn’t about to give up the fight
The air began to thin, as oxygen prefers the ocean
Throughout the afternoon he continued the motion
His muscles ached relentlessly, and his lungs burned
With the effort, his fingers were cold, and his stomach churned
Finally, finally, at the end of his strength he reached
The peak of the mountain; far below an eagle screeched
He wedged the boulder into place, and leaned against it
Glancing around, his growling stomach wouldn’t quit
There was nothing to eat, beyond the moss and lichens
Nothing stirred among the gravel; a quiet silence
The wind was cold, this close to the heavens
But leaning against his rock, he could see the horizons
He was utterly exhausted, but he got what he wanted
He was just in time to watch the sunset as it started
It was going to be a struggle just surviving
But he could see the whole world; he could see everything
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To mix source material, one must imagine Sisyphus happy
There’s two morals to this parable and story
The first lesson to be learned is that people are different
Even among brothers, some are quiet, others exuberant
The next lesson isn’t really focused on paying the price
For more information; like perseverance for the prize
No, the second lesson is that the answers you find
Might not be commensurate with your effort and grind
Your intellectual curiosity is no promise
Of any great reward, to a vet or a novice
Your appetite for the challenge is the problem
And the reward, in its own proportion
Now maybe the opening line of this explanation
Makes more sense as the destination
The appetite for the challenge is the reward, exactly
To mix source material, one must imagine Sisyphus happy
To end it, an important question on which to ruminate
Hawaiian Demi-gods never had to orchestrate
An offence against the Heat Zone without Kyle Lowry
So tell me, who had it tougher, them or the Māori?
Mixing source material; one must imagine Sisyphus happy
– The Chameleon