your place

A smart person riddled a koan yesterday:
What is your place in this beautiful/terrible world?
These higher-order riddles make me nervous.
So what is your place in this place?

My brain is a good catcher of fly balls,
It realized instantly that I just don't have a role.
What's your role? = Get in line,
or stake out this gold mine.
And own it.
You don't own anything here, so you're nothing.
A parent will always be a parent,
and a waiter knows he's a waiter.
This koan is clearly a viral issue.
In any of your reveries, you must clearly know the answer.
The question is tricky like all high koans,

Should I? Or maybe not?
What Carlitos?
That “knowing your place” is a badge on a waiter's chest.
Both in reality and in dreams.
A fixation in the system of one's views.
Gives density, but in addition to density, rigidity.

I don't have time to think right now.
I'll come back to it later.
Okay, let's look at it from eight angles.

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_They replied, then, that if one head had too many names, they knew how to solve it._

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)