March 26
Whirly Gigs
Pivot points and reference points subtlety disguised as
harmless bric-a-brac escape my comprehension until I either stumble or land on
one or the other and ponder the affect.
Realization that much of my life’s contentment hinges like a door shocks
me, though I don’t know why it should.
Isn’t it the way of things that it all turns on a whim or at the very
least hangs on fine gauged calculation?
I am not the capricious vixen I accuse myself of; I am however human and
given to a certain amount of fickle fussy frenzy which all reckons out given
enough perspective and wit.
Resuscitate inspiration
*
CALIBRATE COINCIDENCE
Do good
Do right
Line up with the next movement
Get the universe into the sprockets of my desires
And make the miracles flow in my direction
Ah, The boy scout merit badge of sobriety
I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker
Of my small life
Expecting gold
And where is God?
Where is the realness of reality?
Where is my place in this hairy mess?
Well, who knows
Am I the Wizard, the Chemist?
The mechanic of the galaxy?
Though I wish and hope
In truth I am not the one who calibrates coincidence
I am the receiver of.
Do good
Do right
Line up with the next movement
Get the universe into the sprockets of my desires
And make the miracles flow in my direction
Ah, The boy scout merit badge of sobriety
I force spiritual alchemy through the pasta maker
Of my small life
Expecting gold
And where is God?
Where is the realness of reality?
Where is my place in this hairy mess?
Well, who knows
Am I the Wizard, the Chemist?
The mechanic of the galaxy?
Though I wish and hope
In truth I am not the one who calibrates coincidence
I am the receiver of.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
