If you don’t feel anything,
Are you at peace,
Or empty?
If nothing really troubles you,
Are you blessed,
Or sick?
If there is no pain to use,
Well,
What do you use?
If there is no pull towards something,
Do you wait?
Or do you explore?
If you have a hundred things to do,
But,
You freeze,
Because you don’t know which project to choose;
Because you want to focus on what you’re presently feeling;
So instead of finishing one of the hundred projects,
You start something new;
Well,
Then
You’re just like me.
If the finger’s refuse to move,
And you’ve finally run out of things to say,
Is that the day that you stop?
Is that the day the pen drops?
. . . Move, dammit!
This piano won’t play itself!
Jump, dammit!
How am I still here?
How am I still chasing my own tail?
Didn’t anything change?
Am I talking to myself,
While running around in circles?
Is this my loop?
Is it my race track?
Around and around I go.
Unable to change.
Unable to move.
Chasing fake rabbits,
While the crowd places their bets.
I’m the underdog.
Go figure.
No one bets on me.
I don’t have a chance of winning, they say.
They say that I am slow now.
That I don’t really want the rabbit anymore.
And
Maybe they're right . . .
Once you’ve seen the stage
Once you’ve let go of your pain
Why would you chase fake rabbits?
Why would you keep running the race?
Why?
Do you know?
If you knew the rabbit was just a fake,
Would you still chase it?
CH 12/27/24
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