No wonder we are all screwed up—
Insisting life’s a half-filled cup.
Half-filled, half-empty, it’s the same,
But that’s not how we play the game.
We say half-filled is better, yet
It’s still half-empty on a bet.
The connotation is, of course,
One side is smooth, the other coarse,
One side is bright, the other dim,
One side is joy, the other grim.
But Lo!, somehow, there is a gaffe
In always measuring by half.
If you’re half-filled, and satisfied,
What makes you think there’s more beside?
Half-empty, therefore, as you speak,
Means simply you have more to seek.
The only danger in that cup
Is, with the latter, you give up!
© Richard Williams