Men in the park
grip brown paper bags
certain as Catholic nuns
grasp their faith,
both counting one
by one, until neither
makes any difference
in the course of eternity.
Two paths, one park bench—
Angelic in their own rite.
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Men in the park
grip brown paper bags
certain as Catholic nuns
grasp their faith,
both counting one
by one, until neither
makes any difference
in the course of eternity.
Two paths, one park bench—
Angelic in their own rite.
Probably the hardest lesson
to learn is that, in life
you can do everything right,
and still get it wrong.
Children are very important, more in tune
than our fragile adult minds are willing to admit,
because kids know what’s important
and they’ll tell you to your face,
though it’s hard to hear them
with all the nonsense man’s created
to convince the world
he ain’t so little anymore, knowing the truth
once he’s willing to truly listen.
I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.
But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.
Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?
Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.
Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.
Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.
So then what?
Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.
We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.
So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.
Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.
So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.
Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.
So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.
I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.
But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.
So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.
Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.
So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.
There’s hope out there in the sunshine
and there’s hope in here in the darkness
I’m sure of it, you know
it’s kind of like early in the morning
when fog hangs around mountaintops
there’s a peak up there
you can’t see it but it’s there
so you climb farther and
farther than you ever imagined
now close your eyes and breathe
and in the darkness of the mind
breathe in all your worries
all the war that is inside
then breathe out and feel
one moments relief
that there is yours
that there is hope
that there is always yours to keep.
all
that
time
effort
energy
left
to
H
A
N
G
—