What distinguishes, creates demarcation between living and life?
Can they be divided or shared, like pieces of pie cut with a knife?
Or only the viscera of being alive, breathing and eating and shit
Simply work, chores, needful daily obligations; that cannot be it
In relationships you always hear such a lot of talk of commitment
In relation to you own life can you find it or know where it went?
Are you engaged, involved, living now and planning your future?
Running away maybe or doing what you must, though it’s torture
Do you drink, take drugs, gamble or obsessively have sex or clean?
Watch the soaps, the sordid talk shows, TV judges; it’s all obscene
Seedy, vulgar people on either side of the camera they are in view
Pathetically sorry they may be; they’re more in their lives than you?
They’re crazy, you cry, I’d never be on those shows if you paid me
Are you frightened what others, friends, strangers might get to see
A coin of two sides, sometimes one side and sometimes the other
Life’s coin flips over and over, and life’s so tough you don’t bother
Commitment to life, living in conscious intent, is like being in love
Feeding you energy, like an electrical charge, blessings from above
Fortunate you are to find work, love or life which fills you up, over
If not, hope that someone commits to you, or you find him or her
Impossible you feel to be present and focused every day of the year
Engaged every second, every minute, every day something you fear
So you swill beer and watch football or sip wine and love live ballet
No matter the choices, you cheer or chide them, whatever you say
You read science fiction, mysteries, romances, your need to escape
Watch movies, plays with heroes of the mind and some with a cape
Surrogates such as these, you allow to live much of your life for you
Inside pretending you’re them and their triumphs heap glory on you
Youur chosen have lost, you limp along dragging, like it’s life or death
As if without their victories you won’t be able to take your next breath
Years speed by, you’ve grown older, start to wonder what it all meant
Wonder how you accomplished so very little despite a genuine intent
Type A intent may drive you, a harsh taskmaster, to make lots of money
With a softer bed when you die, but no idea what’s next, ain’t life funny
Many believe the hopes and dreams they cherish and shine are enough
Believe this equals commitment, but it’ll be labeled no more than a bluff
To commit means more than your head in the clouds, stars in your eyes
I’d love to, I love you, alone, only talks the talk without trying the tries
Owning your life, love, work or dreams may mean a staggering climb
Unimportant ultimately if your destination will just suck or be sublime
Heard it, a thousand, million, trillion times, that the journey is the reason
Washboard ruts, dark roads test you, try you, in your best or worst season
Yet life won’t pass by in a blur, with brief stops at safe, preplanned places
Clichéd though it may sound, light hearts and a smiles will ease your paces
Yes, you’ll end up lost in dark woods shivering, cold, wet, and quite alone
Despite being with those you know, love best, your cries echo from stone
Your soles and soul worn through, bedraggled, slogging on, but out of gas
Your life deep in shit, just recall the constipated pledge, this, too, shall pass