A misty rain is fallingand I am tired of waiting for godso he taps me on my wet shouldersayingare you soaked yetsee what the price of waitingfor satisfaction isa cold is perfect in its own wayit spreadsfrom person to personlike the mirage of a fire in a crowded theatrespreads panic from person to person.Are you afraidyou’ll miss the epiphanyhere’s the ideaforget all you ever learnedand see if you can hear a pin dropwhen an actual original ideafalls out of the starsand turns a mishapen eye towards yourstheyll call you madeither that or mainstream youbetter to be madand look a little deeper into changefor opportunity laughsand dances through mud puddleslong before experience gives it half a chance.You’ll hear the pinthen perhaps beyond itand as Kipling saidyou’ll be a man my son.I say this to myselffor who else would understandbut the voice of one so doubtingand yet many times so true.Dont give a damndont give anythingtake the miracletake the mundane in the same orderyou cannot turn your back on itanymore then you can knowwhat you are in the midst ofuntil it kills you with loveuntil you’re saturatedcall it nothingcall it serenitycall it opportunitystepping off the walkinto a puddleturn onceand hope they see you smile.

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  • JRGarland
    JRGarlandover 3 years ago

    Awesome write Bill!!

  • Thanks JR :) glad you liked it.

    – bill bell

  • devotee1
    devotee1over 3 years ago

    Great read, bill!

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