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I just never know
Which way I am
To go when they
Turn me down.

So, I just hold on
Tight to the tem-
‘ples of a furrowed
Brow and pray to
He who gave me will
That ev’ry day is one
We will not regret.

We cannot forget
The lives here be-
‘fore we e’er step-
‘ped on this hos-
‘pitable land/A
Walk we of(f)’n
Forget was forged
Prior t’our stum-
‘bled pacings ’bout.

While doing what
Has been done, how
Often we look for-
‘ward to where we-
‘ve been, holding
On to what we see
Rather than the
Mountains we’ve
Yet climbed and
All those valleys
Within the crease.

Time and That Other Thing

Time. Time slips by as redundant tickings of the keys. A melody is made, though no great note is made. Of pools the eyes swim. In little jabs at this sensory bubble, we notice only that which has been made evident to us. All else is new discovery not brought up in our training. Words wander, thoughts throw themselves, and eyes endure. We know what has been taught to us. We remember the silly things to think they are unique to us. But, the bee remembers. The beetle knows I altered its path. My friend will remind me every now and again of that moment. The silky things are shared– for the most part, though I know our conversations remain bewildering to memory. I like it that way. You would tell me in whispers of a passing wind. I would listen. I, who listened only to himself and they who have a melodic beat. I would listen. You turned my head from tunneled site to branch of humanity. Humanity. That silly word which means what we are but describes few of us. Odd.

Try to smile

I try to smile to everyone I walk by. Not to hide my bad days or gloat on my good days, but to hopefully brighten theirs. There is no greater sadness (save loss) than being completely devoid of a positive presence when you’re blinded by a bad day (or year, or month, or week, or lifetime). A simple gesture, smiling more and often, will remove so many piled on layers of mundanity.