You know when you look back at choices you made or things you did and the hurt and regret and shame are just one side of a coin that also recalls pleasure and growth and need? How sometimes you want to rip the hurt from time and turn it into something you own?
You only break rules we see
You rule more breaks than anybody
You're hobbled by everything arbitrary
No one taught you to fall free
Desiring a thing less temporary
Like recognition, a warm hand to your cheek
And the fates sing away
luring fools as foreplay
wanting only the strong to stay
But if you're the muse which sings
Rip the clock arms from the spring
Bend them round until
they pass
(everything you wanted is now everything
you got)
for rings
(everyone who saw you now recalls a
perfect thought)
pass
(everything you wanted is a struggle up
a hill)
for rings
(Sisyphus rolls past as you keep your
footing still)
pass for rings
(Don’t you want to be there when he
climbs past you again?)
Mirror's gaze reflects cliche
But why spit in your own face
When you have still to learn to speak
Remember that cold voice?
Cynical and cruel, offering no choice
It's up to you to decide if it is guru or freak
When your heart breaks in two
and both halves are alien to you
One that is old and one that is shrewd
Walk away and start again
start again
start again
renew
A celebration of you. A countdown of 50 days to your 50th birthday. Some presents and surpises along the way. Some recognition of who you are and why I love the you that you are. Happy birthday season, BB. Thank you for letting me celebrate you.