Stir the Morning

Deep inside every glacier is the heat to melt it
Along every river is the drought to soak it
Within the whirlwind is the calmness to stop it
I am no different than any of these things
A balance of my life and death; my joy and sorrow.
The difference is that I am self-consciousness.
I have a tainted knowledge of my existence,
and an ability to change my own destiny.

This life would be easier if I didn’t think-
If I would just live, and let live.
But instead I worry, fret and curse.
I stir the morning’s beauty with my sweat
And cause the cancerous pain that is death
A dying that started as soon as I was born
The muffled cry of a child that I never was

But then again, we start each day from scratch
A chance to realize the world before us each day
So why do I languor in this projected sorrow?
Why not pretend that I am a bird, a fish or a squirrel?
Allow myself the joy of discovery
Not taking for granted the beauty of the morrow.
I wipe this sweat, and replenish with vigor

The grace of this day is too much for my trouble,
Take it from me, before I ruin it again.
I love life, but keep us at ends.
For my mind is the root of my stupor, forever.