The Classroom

I take sure, gliding steps; empathic, stamping ones. The desk is my back rest, the tables my foot relief. No I'm not a king, but this is my world. I'm not the protagonist, but this is my stage. Since I am given a seat at the table, I will claim my place. Back straight, then waist released. Legs crossed, back leaned. Gaze is firm—I'm here to give, not to fill an empty cup. I'm pushed, but I do not tilt backwards. A full cup does not need more water. It's my stage to pour. My eyes reflect love, a stalwart choice to do you good. You push me to give you second-best, to relent on your good. But this is my stage, my cup is full. I'm pushed, but I do not tilt backwards.

1. I feel guilty and unfree when I withhold love out of fear.

2. I make unwise decisions when I lavish love out of neediness.

3. Radical love out of emptiness creates distortion.