Posts Tagged ‘acceptence’

Felt there was always more to say.

But how could I of?

But when should I of?

What words could have prolonged life.

What words could have made him see.

After all, it happened how it was supposed be.

Saw the error though.

Saw the cure.

What was it that caused it?

It couldn’t be fixed by the same way that got him there.

Thought hard.

Prayed.

Pitched in, felt the weight of his heart, fear and pain.

Dug in.

Gave strength.

A man always has a choice.

The choice is always his.

Giving all you have, is all you can do.

When it is our time we give into and accept

our true strength which is our release and our surrender.

We know when it is our time.

When we are to reach out of time and accept eternity.

When we have left the physical life we are of the mind,

where we have always been and will be eternally ever after.

Many times if not in all cases if we choose to notice in ones passing

the connections we have had become even stronger then they were

in the physical plain.

We are one and have always been.

Our love runs deep.

I always felt there was more to say.

Yet, there is always more to feel and understand beyond what words

can describe.

 

© 2012 Louis J. Auslander

Creativity is a fickle feat at best.

At worse like an oxen driven plow

through  two feet deep of sludge,

on a cold dreary grey day.

The oxen are knee deep in the muck.

“Come on move it!”

You can yell and scream.

” We need productivity! ”

” We need inspiration! ”

” We need creative results! ”

Nothings moving

Nothing…

The oxen look back at you like your crazy.

The plow you’re standing on is sinking in.

You’re up to your knees in the muck.

You no longer can fight.

You give in…

It’s not happening today,

you accept what is.

You unbridled the yoke from the oxen.

You drudge your way out of the field.

In the barn you pat one of the  ox on his hind quarter,

” Will get em tomorrow big guy ,will get em “.

You slosh and shuffle from the barn to your

home while the sun peeks through the clouds

on this grey dreary day.

© 2012 Louie J. Auslander