My head holds no value for time
My instrument was never for precision
The clock strikes with hard hands
Upon its innocent white bottom.
Tell me- am I wrong?
I never had the confidence
To tell truth sliced in lies
When I can’t tell the difference between them.
You may call me naïve, young
For me to speculate on years
But precisely what am I to look forward to?
To becoming a copy-paste adult?
Never forget- spring comes again
And again and again and again
Is every breath a cycle to blend in the mind?
Or am I just a waste of time?
But your smile forever comes to mind
Again, again, and I smile inside
Time will take me wherever it pleases
But your little gifts keep me alive.
Call me random, but I love doing random things. It is simply in my nature. Forgive the poem, but I was spurting feelings I have felt for a while, I suppose. In awkward words and no sense of rhythm, I speculate on this time I have.
However, if I were a deity of some sort, (which I assure you, I don’t think of myself as one), then perhaps, wouldn’t it be hard not to think this way? Life can become somewhat of a pattern, and if one is not a witness of the little miracles in every day, I could see it becoming something dull. We would be slaves to the economy I suppose. Capitalism has to work somehow.
There are miracles.
I was working for my church’s VBS today. It was the first day. I had had a total of 5 and a half hours to sleep, and in all honest truth, my heart was not entirely up to the task. What was a miracle to me was not the VBS itself though. I played with those kids all day, and honestly, along with the ups, there were plenty more slopes to fall into. Plus, there are the piles of things I also have to worry about, tasks I have to do at home, like write my novel for the workshop, write this blog, do my finger exercises, spend time with my parents, etc. I know that sounds relatively easy compared to what some others do, but I worried.
I worry for my finger a lot. I broke my pinkie recently (story here: https://rookswriter.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/this-is-what-happens-when-i-play-sports/), and I just got out of the cast this week. I know it’s too early to worry about it, but I can’t bend it yet. I can bend it a little more now, but the thickness I feel in my finger, the feeling that I could move it, but it doesn’t move. I would be lying if I said it didn’t frighten me. Hands are such an important and dexterous part of your body; I can’t believe I took for granted that fact for so long.
At the end of this VBS day, I felt like a dirty rag. I did my job well, I think, but I could feel the heaviness underneath my eyelids. I was pretty much ready to collapse into the car when I looked back.
One of the children smiled and waved at me. Her mother did too. The child’s face beamed at me with a sort of light in her eyes. The authenticity of her smile, gosh, I can’t forget it. It was as if someone had just packed it in a present and had given it to me for Christmas. It had that kind of magic.
That’s why I believe in miracles. That’s why I believe I can go further than perhaps I think I can. You can too.
See you this Wednesday, with a review on Legend by Marie Lu.