And at the end of the day
what more can be done than what was done
when the bundling nerves and tripping-over-themselves
apologies are heard,
the reality of time passed and irretrievable opportunity
sits like a rotten fruit,
past its time
gathering flies
wallowing in its own juices,
staining the grout in between tiles with its heavy colour,
did you know kiwis bleed red
when past their prime?
Did you know that a lime
not realized in its greatest moments
shrivels into a smaller size,
turns yellow on the outside,
and gets saggy skin?
What kind of stagnation can humans survive in?
The reason we progress is not for capitalism,
and if it was, how do you explain artists,
who live on 50 cents a day just for the joy of
progression,
building skills over a lifetime to teach in a single lesson,
reaching for mastery in ten thousand hours
then producing sounds for bite sized listening,
a piece of purpose, an arrangement of decorated space.
it's not a race to the end with anyone but yourself
you can be no better or worse than anyone but yourself
in order for life to work, one must rely on one's self
change exists in the present moment,
rather than repeated convoluted pasts
so i implore you to stand up,
speak up,
admit your faults and ask for help,
reach for growth to better yourself,
and know that its about fulfillment, nought else.
Purpose, meaning and why-are-we-here
can be easily answered with a gentle evolution.
Do as your cells do, cleanse and renew,
reassess your opinions regularly
reach for solitude to realign your own magnitude
and scrub off the muddy rutted ways,
this is not quicksand, mate, it's bitumen,
Leaves scratches on you,
scars even, melt your feet in summer,
shimmer like illusion but rest assured,
if you push back
you will stand and move forward,
as your body is built to,
your muscles will evolve and grow into new spaces
as they are built to
and your mind won't find it so hard, this new part,
once you have already begun.
