God here….let’s talk about swimming upstream

First off, that school of fish you’re swimming with…

How comfortable is that?

I’ve heard there’s safety in numbers

And yet….

There was that thought that entered your head yesterday

What if?

You did successfully pushed that away

Too much work

And you have so much to do already, now don’t you?

But what if?

There it is again

You fight it

Attempt to push it back one more time

Then from out of nowhere

Another story is told to you

One more person

Newly infected

The issue continuing to spread like wildfire

But it’s not your problem

Just keep swimming

You look around

All these fish



Day after day


The very same battle you are


And yet you tell me they are swimming with you?

That there is safety in numbers?

Who are you trying to convince?

Look around you

Do you still not see it?

You are trapped

In the belly of a whale


In that false sense of security


You’d like to leave?

Well, I can get you out

But that sea….

Will be anything but kind

And now I will ask you this…

Are you indeed ready?


I’ve been patiently waiting

To teach you

How to swim upstream

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The Human Alarm Clock




Blonde hair

Always unkempt

Much too long

A direct reflection

Of your persistence

In becoming a rock star

Throughout the night

It has taken over

Decided to take on new heights

In one place

Or another

Every night

Creating a new style

Refusing to conform

To an orderly design

These very strands

Now sleeping

Exhausted from last nights’ work

A new masterpiece to be sure

I softly enter the room

Taking in the moment

Realizing the independence

Its efforts are not wasted on me

How proudly it now slumbers

My hand reaches down

A gentle ruffle

I do so love this moment

The exhale

An acknowledging

Of my attempt

That of being a human alarm clock

I flip on the light

More strands of crazy hair disappear under the covers

A knee jerk reaction every time


I walk to the fan

Turn the dial from “high” to “off”

The air in the room

Now thick with anticipation

The fan, the lights, all of the inanimate objects in the room

Holding their breath


For what comes next

I turn to you

“Time to wake up buddy”

The words have now spilled out

Absorbed by the room

No response is received from the newly made cocoon

My eyes land

One final time

On that crazy head of hair

Each strand

Waiting for me

My final look

A soft smile forms about my lips

I turn and slowly walk out of the room

Indeed, it is once again, a most beautiful morning

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