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Monthly Archives: May 2013

If you fail,
The earth will continue to rotate.
If you fall,
You can pick yourself straight back up.
Or, you can take a moment to look up at the stars.
If you slow yourself down,
The view is less blurred.
You can join the rat race.
Or you can burn your own trail.
Lifetime is confusing.
But it is not the time in your life that matters most;
It is the life in your time.

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A million thoughts
Buzzing like wasps around a nest.
When is that report due?
What did she mean when she sent that email?
I wonder if dad has remembered that it’s the green bins that are taken today?
Hairline seems to be receding more…
I wonder if she’ll go out for a drink with me.
Should just ask her…
Did I remember to feed the cat?
Did I lock the door?
What if she says no?
What if she says yes and then doesn’t turn up?
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
The screeching of brakes,
The acrid smell of burning rubber.
The sickening crunch of metal and glass.
Behind you,
In your rearview mirror,
You see the wreck
That you missed
By seconds.
You stop.
Call an ambulance.
Call the police.
You watch as stretchers are carried off.
You listen as police make phonecalls.
You observe from the outside
As lives are changed forever.
And in that moment,
All the petty worries,
The trivial griping,
The destructive comments…
They all melt away.
Replaced by a sudden urge
To quit your job.
To go to your father’s house
And take him out for the day.
Remind him how much you love him.
To ask that woman out on a date.
And hey, let’s be crazy…
Losing your hair?
Shave it off, and shine with pride,
Knowing that yours can be,
No, must be,
A life well-lived.

He slumps in the plump, winged armchair
Of his expensively furnished study,
In his enormous, princely palace,
With a healthy measure of the finest Scotch
That money can buy,
And he weeps.
The man who everyone believes has it all
Weeps
For the one thing he cannot have.
The girl.
The sweet, innocent, pretty young thing,
With a smile like sunshine
And a heart of gold finer than any that a jeweler could supply.
This beautiful rose
Who married for love,
Not wealth, or convenience.
And who,
For the time being,
Is sheltered, protected,
In a warm cocoon
Of pure, perfect, unconditional, and reciprocated adoration.
What her husband lacks in money
He more than makes up for with time.
Endless thoughtful gestures.
A hand to hold when seas are rough.
Someone to laugh with in the summertime.
A man to grow old with.
And that is why the rich man weeps.
Because he is all too aware
That the flashiest car available cannot transport him
To where he yearns to be.
In her arms.
That all the powerful allies
Cannot change the feelings of a woman’s heart.
That the largest of mansions
Are cold and hollow
Without a lover to share them.
But worst of all, he knows
That all the money in the world
Cannot buy her love.
And while she will die,
Surrounded by those she holds dear,
With a smile on her face,
He will die cold and alone,
Wishing that he could make his choice again
Between wealth and success.
As he wipes the last traces of Scotch from his lips,
A painful epiphany reveals itself:
Happiness,  success, and wealth
Are not always synonymous.
And that is why the rich man weeps.