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Subject: Life In a Moment's Time


Author:
andy
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Date Posted: 22:39:29 01/14/08 Mon



Life in a Moments Time




"There's a mystery to all of us
only some of us will solve."




January 6, 2002




In the far corners of the world
the children gather for school
hopping puddles, scraping knees,
drawing laughs, or condemnations,
dependent upon their temporary
status in the community of youth.




It is universal that children
are children, and laugh more than
adults allow, the teacher
talks of history, the
children talk of yesterday,
the things they learned
on the way home, another secret
is shared and passed,





on the high noon, we lunched
sitting on the half-wall
at the Cathedral's corner
I wondered why the pigeons
always followed the children, leaving
the adults five paces away
at all times,




these are the things I see;





The space between the changing
focus of your eyes, your last
breath of conscienceness before
you fall to sleep, how you move
when you are finished speaking,
where you put your hands when
you are seated, the color of the
earth at sunset,
the churning of the river in spring,
the blooming of the wildflowers,
and the boldness with which they
paint themselves along the slopes
of open fields,





These are the things I hear;






The sound of the ocean in a storm
The sigh of a child after a day of
rough play
The laughter of people, how it rolls
on the air
the music my guitar makes
representing my changing
moods,
the words I love you, whenever, wherever,
the tone of my daughters'
voices when they say,
"Hi Daddy"






We must never forget that the world
is magnificent everyday
that the dog barks for a reason, and not all
of them are bad, that the ocean is only
sixty miles down the road and, left!






The moon sits in the sky spinning,
the earth, the stars, the sun,
all in accordance with the laws
that sustain life.





We didn't write these laws,
and therefore can't know everything
but the man who seeks to hold what
little truth he knows within his hand
and walk with it
will have lived an honest life.





"Life is not lived in a moment
but moments are all full of life,
little things that in truth are much bigger
things that are easily dismissed"






I watched a full grown man ride a
bicycle through the dirt streets of Jamaica
with grocery bags tied to both bike and body
I stopped to watch him pass me by, he smiled,
to the backdrop of green mountains rising from
the blue sea,





this is life:




The touch of a lover, smile of a Mother, springs first flower, the afternoon rain, the lakes, the rivers, and every blade of grass upon your lawn.





Don't harbor your time in cynicism, groveling in the black, paint your day a costume of colors, bold enough to make a statement, soft enough to remain humble, do the dishes in the sink, take out the garbage, and if you can, kiss your children everyday,




Why Not?




There is a pounding in my brain, I believe it is my rhythm returning, as I feel it settle in me like hot winters soup, all the world is fine again:






There were three guitar players, I could hear them in the distance, they were playing the songs of life, there was a drum;






I am sure now, It was I who added the beat, soft behind the chords, with tenacious pace. Your drum would be different, the guitarist's are resting but there is another song written in the winds of today:



(added 5-7-02)




Twenty-five years
gone;





I have lived them by my own choices, and loved the days when my heart felt peace. That is what I seek now, a softer life, less influenced by things I cannot change, more concerned that I greet the day with a thankfulness for its wonder, and strive to live as my soul suggests, so that I may rest well with the evenings passing






I woke before the others, grabbed my camera,
and headed for the beach, waiting on the orange
sun to slide above the sea
I stood there near the edge of land
and took my pictures
On my way back home just as I was
cresting the final dune
I was drawn to the picket fence
and the reeds that danced in the wind
above it
I stopped to put them in front of
the sun
and with the very last step taken
snapped the reason why I
had come





"in another corner a man, guitar in hand, begins to sing;"






He labors in his madness but knows the world is madder still
his mind it won't stop spinning so he lets it go until
he falls upon the mattress in his drunkeness retreats
in to the fetal form and quickly falls to sleep
he dreams about his childhood and all the glory he once knew
all the pretty girls that followed him stuck to him like glue
he knows most dreams are bound to die
but he'd give love another try





I heard the undertaker called in the dark September night
he was looking for my soul but he couldn't find the light
he said that he'd be back again you told him I'd be gone
one step ahead of dead my friend and life keeps movin on
tell me bout the circus and the kids out at the zoo
feeding peanuts to the elephants the way that children do
thinking that this beast is friend, no fear cause they don't know
it just might trample over them like some people they'll soon know





I'm spinnin in some whirlwind, some kaleidoscope of pain
I can't remember yesterday hell I don't even know my name
I was just a juggler and for years now she's been gone
she's not the one I'll kiss tonight, the one I'm counting on
the yuppies they're all trading stock hoping to stay ahead
of something that they can't define they toss and turn in bed
the world is full of misery and I know I've had my share
so I am here to tell you this, let me make it really clear
you can't take it too seriously, you can't take it too light
you have to just convince yourself that what your doing's right
ortherwise you know my friend in time you will soom fall
and all you'll have to say is it was not your fault at all


Between the wind and the rain
the day and the night
is where you will
find me still
in awe of
it all







Further down the road a farmer plants his seeds
in faith of the cycle, that it will bring
him fruit for his efforts
and thanks his God
for the same;




There is a story of Woody Guthrie and the Rainbow Room




It makes for good reading






This train is bound for Somewhere,
Somewhere down the tracks,




Where all things come together
In a wink of an eye.

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