This, Too, Shall Pass

                      Blindspotting, Too ~ Philip Brent Harris


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,
watching the soaps, sordid talk shows, TV judges; it’s all obscene?
Sleazy, vulgar people, either side of the camera, they are in view.
Pathetic, sorry, they may be, they are more in their lives than you.
They are crazy, you cry, I’d not be on those shows if you paid me.
Are you frightened what others, friends, strangers might get to see?
A coin, two sides, is 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 can find him, 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,
Whatever your 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, you pretend you’re them and their triumphs heap glory on you.
Your chosen have lost, you limp along dragging, like it’s life or death,
as if without their victories you won’t manage to take another 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 that hopes and dreams they cherish and shine are enough.
Believe this equals commitment; it will 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 and 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, 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 smile, 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 echoing 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.


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,  Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment


Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:

Brent Harris Fine Art

Philip Brent Digital Art

Vida Voices

Scriggler TPM

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