So the balloon of numbers,
so shiny on New Years Eve,
loses lustre on day two of the year.
What do you do?
Give up and just stare?
Or commit to the process that life’s not fair.
Video games give a great reminder of lives
too short, and too easily run over;
these days, easily re-built or re-booted,
according to your app, or whatever’s closer.
Your avatar lives as though a real you,
ducking, diving, dashing – always a fight
to save your last life, as though those before
the last one didn’t count for nought.
Except the reality of play is a metaphor of real.
Why play at life, when it’s a fragile gift.
Here and gone in a heartbeat, it is.
Like a game, life’s time is swift.
Stand tall, stand true.
Find balance in what you do.
My four diamond holes
to help find what you extol.
My three central blocks
to stay firm against life’s knocks.
The column at my core
to align with what you adore.
The security at my base,
to remind you to live with grace.
Tides come, tides go,
time shoots its arrows.
Stand true, stand tall.
One day you won’t be here at all.
How much longer will I pad the dreams
of others who pay me daily.
Why is my vase full of distracting sand
instead of pebbles that count, that matter.
My true life skills, my singular gifts
are stifled in admin, thoughts of bills.
Striking out, writing stories down
feels impossible, crazy, waste of time.
And so I count, I help, I fix, I support
the sorry souls of others.
But when will it dawn that I could die
with my stories still inside me.
you look at us grown ups
as if we know our stuff
but really we are playing,
getting by our days in
our mixed-up, chocka-busy ways
praying and hoping it’s our heyday