What’s Really Happening

Ever wonder,

when you look them in the eye,

if their response

is a genuine effort to lie.

A mean-spirited man once said to me,

if you wait around, you die.

 

Ever wander

through a day and sigh,

just not sure how to complete a moment,

instead letting it pass,

by listening to the tick, a steady reminder,

of every lackluster effort

we decry.

 

Ever wonder,

what it is like to

find the answer

without actually recognizing why,

said the man,

to the other man,

who thought of the man,

to be lesser than

the Man.

Playing Silent Chords

Every sound begins a sermon

tells me where I am

what I have become,

where the next adventure lies.

I started with a ticking clock

symbolic of our borrowed time

always a reminder

that our lives do hang in the balance

when suddenly drowned out by machines

those that run our lives when we awaken

from the silent revery of our destiny.

Distant in the background

the ticking remains

yet now I am alone

listening and trying to hear

that word, or phrase or natural light

that indicator of why I do exist in the moment

why right now as I lay here on my couch

my life has purpose

and everything around me,

is part of a design

a greater vehicle of fortune

that I might ever imagine.

In the silence I hear my children’s voices

laughter and innocence

when neither they or we

concerned ourselves with the next day.

That’s different now,

when we think about what is next

much like the chords on a guitar

waiting for the next ballad

there’s always a ballad

looming about during moments of reckoning.

What is the music that played when silence

began the spiritual journey toward humility.