She love the
Deliciousness
Of her own
Self-torture
"Why is the mud
So wet
And dark?
Why does
It cling
To me so?"
So she digs
Deeper,
Sure that
The rich fertile
Ground,
Moist from
The sea of
Inner tears
Spilled from
Her own eyes
And those
Who have
Joined her
In the muck,
Will give
Her the freedom
She seeks.
Her thrashing
Looking for
The source
Of the muck
Only gets
Her more
Stuck.
She lives
On the planet
Of "Why."
I can remember
When I lived
There too.
Feeling like
I was an alien,
Because the
Answer to
"Why"
Was and is,
"Why not?"
Understanding
The triggers
To our upset
Can be anywhere
On the path,
But some parts
Of the journey
Are on more
Muddy parts
Than others,
Especially
When we drop
To our knees
And cry our
Eyes out,
Turning
The solid ground
Beneath us
To mud,
We lose
Ground.
How much time
We spend
On planet "Why"
Depends on
If we want to
Live on the
Inside of our
Eyelids,
Or engaged
With a world
Full of many
Possibilities
Filled with joy
In action…
"How" can we
Interact
Lives in the
Present…
"Why" sticks
Us in the past…
I'd rather be free
in the moment,
than be
a stick-in-the-mud.
How about
You?
