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Hopes and dreams

Hopes and dreams
Misplaced ambitions;
Life too short
For wasted time,
And silly superstitions.

Hopes and dreams
Driving youth
Towards ends and means;
Without direction,
Nor goals which Wisdom brings.

Hopes and dreams
Lost over time;
Replaced by routine,
Obligation and burden.

Hopes and dreams
Aged away;
Faded day by day,
Ill guided
And never realized.

Hopes and dreams
Wasted upon the youth,
Who have the vision,
But lack the Wisdom,
To see a dream,
Come to fruition.

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The Silent Pulse

At the heart of each of us, whatever our imperfections, there exists a silent pulse of perfect rhythm, a complex of wave forms and resonances, which is absolutely individual and unique, and yet which connects us to everything in the universe. The act of getting in touch with this pulse can transform our personal experience and in some way alter the world around us.

[Source, George Leonard, The Silent Pulse: A Search for the Perfect Rhythm that Exists in Each of Us]

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Such a beautiful day!

Tis a beautiful Sunday
On a three day weekend
The sun shines brightly
And I think of working on Amy’s clubhouse
I imagine playing with my children
Riding bikes and swimming
Frisbee golf and adventures
Explorations and local attractions
I think of cleaning the garage
And improving the house
All while typing away at my computer
So that perhaps the next beautiful Sunday
I can make these things a reality.

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An Artificial Light

[n.b. 1st draft of an incomplete one that’s been sitting on a piece of paper far too long]

There’s a crowd in here
With so many voices
   and so many noises
How can one be so alone
In such a crowded room

There’s a party in here
Everyone is having fun
Except for one
Who knows
It’s an artificial light.

With a flicker flutter
   Pop a fizz
We’re all aware
We all know
It’s an artificial light
   about to blow
And the darkness comes
Because all artificial lights
   burn out
The light has to go.

The sun is shining bright
Birds are singing
Daises tickle the bellies
   of cats playing with dogs
Rain has washed the clouds away
Only fog in the shadows remain
The sun is shining bright
It’s an artificial light.

A shiny man lies in my closet
He wears the clothes
   that no longer fit me
The light in the closet
   burned out long ago
The shiny man does not care
He lives in the darkness
   with nothing to fear
But an artificial light.

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The Past Clings Forever to the Future

The Past cannot be undone
And will always haunt The Future
We extol ourselves,
“Learn from the past”
While brooding with regret
Frustrated, lacking the ability to forget
The desire to move forward; hampered
By our bygone action which shackles us
Unable to escape its grip
The Past is one with us
No separating from it
No forgetting
Perpetually haunted by its ghosts
When at last, you have forgiven yourself
And believe yourself to have moved on
The Past latches on like a Tigress
Pouncing upon Her prey
Not even Death provides absolution
For you take The Past to your grave
And worse
Leave some for those left behind.

The simple solution to keeping The Past at bay
Be inhuman
Never make a mistake.