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The Match
by Steven Craig
Here, you find the words that are to a person, what an infomercial is to a product. Words make or break the deal, and even if you are in the first 500 callers to get now two useless items, it is still the words that made you turn and for that one moment, drop your guard.
I am a writer, a poet, a warrior, a professional. Words are a tool of my trade, but they do not make up all that is my art. Each day, the peregrination is more impressive. Each night, the dreams are more vivid. Poets live. Poets die. But the Earth abides.
That glass they speak of, is not half full, it is not half empty, that glass will never be big enough, for I have learned just enough to know how little I understand. And I do intend to make the glass come to know me.
Choices are what the road does for us as we travel it, each step merely a placement of a commitment to perform for those around us the necessary acts and deeds that make life worth the moments passing, the beating heart, the wind that gusts for a moment, and then is stilled forever.
I keep some selections of what I write online at an interesting site. There, my friends come to find moments of distraction and interest that has no hidden agenda or threat. You will be welcome to share when you will.
Thank God for spellcheckers, else I would never write a thing.
I travel as much as I possibly can. The world is always changing, and much that was there last, will vanish on the next turning. There is in that turning, even more to be a part of that can be accomplished in a life, so I am careful and studious and quiet until the time is upon me as it was to the Prophet, no sun rise finding me where sunset left me.
I am not what I wanted to be.
I am what I became.
I would not for a moment trade any second of my life for anything else.
You are reading this because the words have your interest for a moment. But the secret I share is simple. I am a private, very personal person. No one talks for me, or stands in my place. I do what it is that must be done, for I am the one that is there to do it, and no one else. I make no excuses. I say I am sorry. I accept no excuses. I show the better path to take. I know the value and the limit of my personal life, and I share it to what great depth that I may find myself involved in. When I leap, I do so with both feet, and with all the energy I can summon. At times, that fall can be long and deep, but I am still here. I can be afraid, but I am never scared. I lead. I make the choices. I point the direction, and move on it. There is no time for indecision.
You would want to have all your curiosity and all the energy of your mind focused on that road of value. You mind is so simple, and yet so complex. You have desires and dreams, and fears of never knowing, or of knowing it all too well. Control is not fear. Order is not force. Dreams need not decay. Needs must not go unacknowledged.
Move your fingers, and feel the tingle in their tips. Know the moment between your heart beats. Share a look out the pane, past the curb, around the bend.
Lower your head, let your gaze follow, as you smile, as your eyes seek your feet. Watch them as your feet begin to move forward, and they take you on to the time at awaits you.
07/31/2007 Posted on 08/01/2007
Copyright © 2024 Steven Craig
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 08/01/07 at 03:23 AM This was to me a wonderful refreshing sigh of relief. I've enjoyed sharing a look out your pane, past your uncurbed curb, around the bend where the wind of your breath has refreshed me. Thank you.
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