Originally posted on 1-7-12, with music.
What is flesh, but a creation?
A limited fuse lit by an unseen hand-
Can it heal?
Can it grow?
and we don’t have to lift a finger.
What is flesh, but a wrapper,
much like a candy bar,
or a tiny mint-
a mask for something more defined
a shirt for our thoughts,
socks for our feelings,
a jacket for our innermost workings-
we can spend years crying tears of all
or smiling moonlit smiles…
with or without the courage to move
forward, or backward,
with or without the strength to stand on
What is flesh, but a creation-
what is creation, but a thought turned into
and action, a collection of concerted
and all we have to do is continue to
The sun…it always shines*
There is a mythical beast
that dominates our lives
and takes center stage-
it forces us to expend great energy
planning our attack, preparing our approach,
and hoping for a swift and decisive victory.
We catch its scent, we plot its course,
and then we set our sights on it until
the moment comes to make the kill.
And so when Friday finally emerges,
we bag our kill and we
are instantly glad, and we are
Friday has taken the guise of a mythical beast.
Smiles that didn’t exist twenty four
hours before it seem to paint the
landscape in bright ivory.
Frowns give way to teeth that hadn’t
been visible all week, teeth that
are now flashed in blinding laughter and grins
We have surrendered the gloom
to the illuminous power of The Friday.
The clouds have parted.
Friday is a beast that we have
come to depend on,
so much so that we scurry through
all the other days just to reach it.
We have become slaves to the grind.
We clamber about, rushing and breezing
through its lesser loved brethren,
wishing and hoping that Friday will
come soon and now, to rescue us from
whatever it is that we are running from.
And then what? It’s over before it began,
and then we don our hunting gear
In the meantime, life is lived in the
blink of an eye,
light years faster than it should,
with so much of it centered on a single
mad dash toward one simple day.
In between, it seems that life itself
is buried under work, stress, and
the mountains of dust kicked up by the mad
Friday has become our savior, but
we have to remember that there is life
between Friday and Friday.
Enjoy the middle.
No one makes a sandwich with just 2
pieces of bread.
Enjoy the middle…there are too many
flavors to taste.