Almost a Religion

in the morning, I am reduced

to plates of cheetos and potato chips,

attempting to satisfy the great beast within,

with whom I share this life,

chained upon these prison walls,

where we survive, while sinking deeper

into these pits of ultimate depravity,

where it has served from the beginning of time;

can it sink any lower?

occasionally it becomes far too personal,

as I take a step back,

taking refuge among the reality of it all,

finishing up the chores and

lesser known deeds along the way,

for which there is no thanks,

even from those who know it all to well,

it is then that reason comes through,

sharp and crystal clear,

like lightning bolts on dark, starless nights,

showing limitations for what they are,

and how little there really is;

we are as nothing when compared to this storm,

yet together we defy the fury,

providing mystery to this epiphany of

endless rushing fools,

where not a one survives,

in spite of mighty cries for merciful solutions;

that which means the most,

is usually the least of it,

in the eyes of those who see only for themselves,

as this great dream continues on,

down winding, endless roads,

for which there is no choice,

only illusions of options,

changing shape with a wave of the hand,

twisting and weaving,

into something new and fresh,

until the outer layer is removed,

only to find the same old story,

inside brand new skin,

like a giant vacuum,

it sucks all that there is,

into it’s deep dark hole,

while some hold on a little longer than the rest,

but eventually, even they are swept away

by the weight of those who stand above them,

waiting their turn for the great slide,

into this vast and empty wasteland

called life;

mowing the lawn,

on cloudy, rainy Sunday afternoons,

can be most rewarding,

depending upon the method

with which it is approached,

and the spirit in which it is given;

in fact, it is

almost a religion.

.

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