The Three Brave Fingers

The thumb buries his head in the sand

He knows that the whole pointing is pointless

He finds shame in participating in this,

This accusation of the other party

But the thumb lacks the guts to dare the self, 

That is wasting time looking for excuses

He finds himself between a rock and a hard place

Not brave enough to point one way 

Or the other way, the thumb abstains

The index finger is playing the sycophant

Happily joins the self, pointing at the scapegoat

Agreeing that the self is always blameless

Even if it is on a path going over a deadly cliff 

Even if it is trying to jump without a parachute

Even if it means arguing with the invisible wind 

Even if it mean headbutting the stubborn wall

All of it matters not to the index finger

What the self wants, the self gets

But the three brave fingers point at the self

The middle finger and the ring finger 

And the little finger, all stand up to the self

There is no progress while the self lies down 

Complaining how the fall was not his fault

What is the point of remonstrating with a stone?

For the self has stumbled and is cursing the stone

The only way to reach the destination

Is by standing up again and moving forward