Running late running to the train and I swallowed a bug.
What if he had a family?
A baby bug with a missing limb?
And he was just out searching for food?
What if I’ve set off a chain of irreversible events that sees the end of not just that big family but maybe a whole colony?
What if that colony death results in less of a food source for a certain type of bird that also eats beetles that, if left unchecked, wreak havoc on a certain type of tree where a certain type of bee that pollenates a certain type of flower lives, resulting in a negative effect on the delicious strawberries you so enjoy in the morning?
What if all that comes to be, leaving you strawberry-less all because I accidentally ate a bug on my way to work?
Or, more likely, what if the bug was radioactive and now I have superpowers?
Guess we’ll just have to wait and see which outcome comes out.
The element of fun
Such whimsical music
These sentient senses
But form cannot fathom
Function cannot fatigue
Foraged and fished
Dredged and delivered
A smiling sunrise
A winking window
A fishy forgetfulness
No present like the present
No more than less
No less than more
Enough is enough
Isn’t that enough?
Stay where you are
Not for me
Not for you
For where you are
For where you are is
Along the way
Forward toward change
Nearly a breath
Change is always ahead
Even a bridge
shrouded in fog
is a victim
Stay the course
to the cosmos
to a melody
Here in my arms
Here in innocence
Here in memory
“Well spotted! The king in all his glory,
shell as hard as stone
and eyes as swift as the wind!”
So say the peasants at the kingdom’s edge.
So say the urchins on every street corner.
But when will he return?
Why so long away?
What’s to become of his shadow?
We’ve grown so used to it he may no longer fit.
“Only time can tell. Only patience will suffice.”
So say the elders and the revolution.
So say the mothers and their admonitions.
And so we wait for the king without expectation.
Hope without hoping.
“We shall see,” says the king.
“We shall see what is to come.”
I was a reservoir with shorelines that vibrated with your every step
I was a shadow whose contour only grew more crisp in darkness
I was an echo that came after every laugh and before every tear
I was a cloud with the makings of a storm but never saw the need
I carried you with me in every step of every day even now
But you are so much more than me or all I have to give
You are a horizon as clear as the sun and twice as unreachable
You are a star nestled in cosmoses waiting to burst into being
You are a tree and the paper and the ink and the ideas and the revolution
You are all I could ever ask for and more with none of the pressure
You are so far beyond I’ve only ever caught a glimpse from behind
And I’ve never once been happier to be so left behind
Pyrrhic, yet still…
A win is a win!
Chalk one up
for the home team.
Who needs a hat anyway?
So long as the tally sticks.
So long as we’re clear.
For the win.
That’s the counter that counts.
Loss is not too great
A win is a win.
I mean, let’s be real.
It’s Pyrrhus we remember.
Not his opponent.
Wherever I go there’s a shadow
that walks with me, a generation
of experience leaving tiny, almost
imperceptible pins at every fork
in the road. Over the years
other shadows have come along
with new pins, sometimes
forgotten before they’re recognized
and sometimes unmistakable,
but still those first remain unfazed,
never more prominent than need be.
If ever I need a hint of what
the past has to teach me, I only
need look for those pins and
the shadow that never walks
the path for me but is always
there waiting nonetheless.