Are you joining me at this time of night? Or are you reading this in the luxury of the sun-shine and day-time of wherever you are?
It doesn’t matter.
Really. It doesn’t.
Because the day is only as old as it looks.
Time wants to give us its set-point deadlines.
But what is it if all smatters after twelve by a bit?
Only by that which we give it.
A day is only that which we give it, indeed.
Give it nothing, and that’s what it is.
Be chained to the definition…and that’s you in Jail!
But go with it, and freedom dwells truly there…
There in the midst of it.
Rain on the window-sill…
All winds a-blowing…
But the fact is, Life is only right here, right now, now at at eleven-forty-five by my clock.
Even no rhyme can come to greet us, for the poetic amongst us.
A shame, because these words could end so well, otherwise.
So for those who have lived to see these words and perhaps another day….
I bid you good night, may sleep give you some deliverance from today.
It can if you let it! Do not dismay!
The rhyme is closer than we all realize…
Like the wind in the willows, it is here right now…
Dare we pause to receive it? To recognize it as such?
Or do we let the day lay, as it is…..as much?
Indeed, let’s let it be just as it is, to all my friends this I pray!