IF I HAD A SCREWDRIVER
If I had anything other than this hammer, possibly, I would discontinue pounding this helix into the side of my universe. The slot is unused; the flat head of my sledge slams. A wide void is punched into my abyss as the threads are pummeled not turned. If I had picked up the right tools, if they had been displayed within my reach, if my granny had five wheels she might yet be a wagon.
I have picked up new tools but, having never seen them used, I bang with them. Watching others twisting the wrist and angling the elbow, I try to wrap my mind around the posture. Muscles I have never used, laminated to mental configurations unthought of, improvement in workmanship is slow. Many a fine toolbox has remained full and untouched, the mind lacking the dexterity to grasp the in-workings, the body ill-equipped for the outer. If I had a screwdriver, I pray I could bring to it the flexibility of sinew and the nimbleness of wit.
Remember the minutes; they belong to you.
Reality and Desire
“I know the difference between desire and reality,”
I whisper to my new found friend.
Who I am and what I am,
are a reality unto themselves,
Your recognition of that
and how you handle said recognition
are for you and God.
The vastness of the true you;
I hope to spend a lifetime surveying;
but not sampling.
What you want and your reality
are not mine to mind or mend.
If you are driving that train this is on you
If HP is the driver all the more incentive
for me to be still, enjoy the ride and await the outcome.
For in the end the question is never,
will you be mine, but what will I be to you.