Far from the beginning
Nowhere near the start of the end
Racing, Propelling, Stumbling somewhere into the middle
A break in the thick, thorny shrubs…a small almost unrecognizable gap in the twisting,
Turning pathways of the maze.
A gateway, a third persons point of view
A front row seat
The authoritative hand holding the hour glass, the looking glass,
The snow globe representing our lives.
No better opportunity to be the director of life’s mini-series,
The conductor that regulates the musical symphony.
The political big brother.
The guardian angel…quietly whispering, urging us on, encouraging us to use our intuition
To be self-reliant.
The gap is closing
Weeds growing, roots strengthening, binding; taking hold.
No more easy outs
No more u-turns.
One-way traffic is building.
Life is racing, pace increasing, speed limits rushing by
CAUTION…proceed with ease.
Water rushing, waves crashing, fine snow crystals everywhere.
Falling softly, spinning, colors reflecting against every surface inside.
Bubbles pop, tides recede.
Once again; for the moment life is stable.
The vertical and horizontal are distinguishing.
For the moment the manipulation has stopped, life will carry on.
The globe is put back on the shelf along with the others.
The snow and water has settled.
The lights dim and an uneasy hush falls over the underwater city.
It waits, waits for the next wave, the next pressure-filled grasp to take hold.
The puppet-masters hands are tired….juggling so much can be so damn draining.