Not Yet

Perhaps your time is done,
There’s nowhere left to go,
The years closed more doors than you knew were there,
Or what they were e’en for,

Maybe the years left are all maintenance,
Of what you’ve built so far,
Trying to keep the roof over your head,
Not get up and getting into your car,

Driving to where you always wanted to,
But never thought you could,
For life’s not presented as what you can,
But rather what you should.

So, here you are,
It’s not over, you know,
Plenty of folks live right up to their death,
Never giving up where they need to go.

The Stress of Not Knowing

If you could see the end,
With no pow'r to change it,
The choices you make only affecting,
The road you take to it,

Imagine the advantage you would have,
Over time's tyranny,
No more fear of what your actions might do,
To the outcome of your mortality,

Each moment could have in mind a true goal,
For truth is hard to find,
Its value's greater than all the world's gold,
Or unlimited time,

But then again,
Do you really need truth,
When living as if you know what it is,
Is not diff'rent in effect to the sooth?

Sitting

There seemed so much to do,
Then I sat down to it,
Sometimes when you stop to take a breather,
You just don't give a shit,

The mind wants to focus on where you are,
As if finding yourself,
The world you've been in somehow changes you,
So that what's important is something else,

Your job, your debts, and those who attack you,
A bubble you live in,
Opaque, blocking out light, you've no body,
Most you know will give in,

It's called living,
As opposed to being,
Then you look through the bubble from outside,
To realize it's not you, you're seeing.

Under Tombs

It's all but disappeared,
In the darkness beyond,
Too frightened or perhaps too logical,
To leave your position,

The safety of the wall your hand rests on,
Means you cannot take risks,
The death of which may delay your own death,
Yet, fills your life with repetitiveness,

But once you abandon that which you know,
For of which don't know much,
All of the hands in the world will not help,
For there's nothing to touch,

That they will know,
You'll have to feel around,
Until what there is becomes a new wall,
Or you surrender dead upon the ground.

Next

When you've an idea,
You want to bring to life,
You take a step in the right direction,
Towards the  nat'ral light,

But what happens if you come up against,
Something that's in your way,
Not completely blocking your view of it,
Though, demanding  to pass you have to pay?

Do you decide that it is not worth it,
Move on to something else,
That the real joy of creativity,
Is commune with the self?

That is a choice,
Made every minute,
If it wasn't, wouldn't the world be filled,
With the thoughts of everyone in it?

Logic

What you do in your life,
Has many dependents,
Parents, history, and inclination,
And, of course, dependents,

You can spend your time reviewing these things,
In fact, I’d say you must,
Each moment you aren’t instead living,
To avoid a general self disgust,

Which tends to happen when you don’t look in,
Opting to look around,
Comparing, blaming, manipulating,
Imagining you’re bound,

To what you are,
Which, indeed, you must be,
As long as you’re thinking in the moment,
Not a future reckoned by history.

Stand Up

This particular task,
Many would face with fear,
If they had any modicum of shame,
Or even held it dear,

Either would undermine genuineness,
Nothing great was e'er done,
Without a naive, childlike playfulness
Executed with reckless abandon,

That is not to say don't do your homework,
You need a foundation,
Made from material others ere know,
Else there's no relation,

Which is the key,
Unless you do not care,
If you are producing the best you can,
While others can only wonder and stare.

On This Day

Upon self-reflection,
Of my life lived thus far,
The different stages I can recognize,
In retrospect, the bars,

The surprising reactions from others,
Both kind and indifferent,
Hostility from self-preservation,
Or ingratiating opportunists,

Expectations not in line with my fate,
Decisions made the same,
Realizing that when it's all said and done,
It is all how I came,

To be who I'm,
There is no turning back,
But, were I born me, on this very day,
I would feel there is nothing that I lack.