Not just roots

One thing I think we often forget, is that roots are not there to keep us in place
They’re there to help us grow.

They are not just strands to connect us to our past
They are the base from which we create
They are the nutrients that build new branches
They are foundation

Sometimes, we have to put some roots in bad places
And the root is just telling us not to grow in that direction!
Roots can be twisted and gnarled
And it can be very special when someone shares their hidden roots with us

My friend you are more than your roots
You are your bark and your branch
And your birds and your leaves
And your fruits, which give so much joy to others

Do not let your roots constrain what you can do
Be the grand tree you were always meant to be

***

Thanks to York Lit Review for the prompt of Roots

Recycling

We're recycling our recycling
We're reusing it again
We're pretending when inventing
We have made a new refrain

But you've heard it before
There's an echo in mind
If you search book and law
There's carbon copies to find

And yet, and yet,
There will be detail in the blur
If you really search I bet
There's some uniqueness to infer

Either in the manner of creation
Or in the angle of elevation
If you truly made it, truly you
There's a part that's solely your view

Learn to grow that little speck
Learn to let the "you" infect
And then the thought you profess
Will still be recycled, but a little less

When I pass

I know that one day my time on this Earth will be done.
I will have lived and loved and been someone.
A life will be lived, and maybe lived well.
That aspect, I guess, time will tell.

There will be some things I don't get to choose.
Which family I keep, which friends I lose.
The reason I have to depart this mortal plane.
Whether my athleticism began to wain.

But, well, I can hope for some things.
I hope for strength to fight what fate brings.
I will have regrets. I hope none too severe.
I hope I finally accept my limited time here.

But mostly, on that day when I finally depart
I wish to make sure I am at peace in my heart
That I don't hold hate in too great a place
And that I shall pass, one day, with love on my face

Art Instantly

The thing that's missing from art in a button
Is the sweat that forms on a brow
The bead of salt and stress
That never bled into the canvas
Never quite mixed with the oils
But shaded the tones of the artist
Skewed the perfect vision
And required fortitude to overcome

It makes the next brushstroke
Come out a little crooked

Either destroying the painting
Or, filling the gap

Time Isn't Money

Time isn't money - you can be precious with each penny
But each second that you spend? Well it's simply one of many
Yes with both there is a test to invest your very best
But at the limit there's a lesson that you should stress a little less

If you wish to be frugal with your Ruble you can Google the best way
...but you can't hoard hours away to have them on a rainy day
There are always moments doing nothing yet we never have enough
One thing I've tried to do is to learn to love the fluff

Treasure your time but still spend it. 
Drink too much wine and then regret it.
Be kind to your mind when you're repentant.
Find a way to unwind that means you meant it. 

Time is time for everyone, no matter how much you try to sift
Just remember it's ok to enjoy this curse and gift
Be grateful for the moments you didn't optimise into the aether
You are not above planning, and you're not below it either

Your time is yours to use, in any way you choose
It can't be wrong or right, it's not a game that you can lose
It is life. Stressful as I know that it can be
All of this to say, I'm thankful that you've spent this time with me

Starting Out

I have a mixed relationship with starting something new
It's like, sure, it's fun to have gone through
To be able to do something you didn't before
But getting to that point can be such a chore

The first few lessons are often fine
Learning the balance between question and whine
But slowly, inevitably, the ego will allow
A simple question - "Shouldn't I know this by now?"

"You're learning too slowly, you're being a burden
These steps are too hard, there's no way you'll learn them"
You need a little bit of ego, to help push you along
But sometimes I let my Ego take the full song

So quiet, my Ego. It's ok to not be a natural.
Each journey is unique, that alone is factual.
I will get better over time. It wont be a consistent pace.
I will enjoy it far more if I don't think of it as a race.

Skills come with a cost, and we must all pay our due
Embrace this, and you may even enjoy yourself when starting anew

Rosie in Lidl

You saw yourself on live TV
With personalised security cam feedback
So you jumped and you danced
And you got in the way of the people pushing trolleys

You asked to be lifted up
So you could better see yourself
And also, I guess, so the security people
Could be *really* sure you weren't stealing anything

Who am I to say no?
I lifted you
And we did a little dance together
On live TV

Arcane Forces

The greatest tragedy was not that it was unavoidable
No, the opposite

The greatest tragedy was that on all other worlds it was avoided
That so much had to go wrong for this to happen

Life has happy endings, sometimes
Things do go right
Often, even, you can say we progress

Which is why those moments when things do fall
We like to feel it was inevitable
A punishment, maybe, surely,
No

No, I cannot claim that
Not most of the time
We have lived through so many "perfect storms"
That it is hard to recognise a genuine one

One that is not just due to greed 
Or malice
But life itself
Circumstance
The fates

and the knowledge that it didn't have to be

Snowmen

Snow starts flat
Even, in all places
Then it melts a little more
On slopes the sun faces

Then, more disorder
Cars clean roads to slush
Pavement steps ice out
Clean white to grey mush

The natural day-to-day of folk
Leaves an imprint we don't usually see
But the disorder I appreciate most
Is more deliberate to me

Beyond the snowballs and sledges
Snowmen rise to attention
Raised with joy wand perseverance
Subject to some creator decoration

And then, melted snowmen guard paths
The last bastions of the weather that was
Details eroded, but form still remains
A clinging reminder to what was lost

Chrome Man

He never set in his ways
Except in the way of never setting
Nor would he count his days
Not that he found age unsettling

But simply because there was too much
Too much to learn, to much to do
His patience could be short as such
Yet, if intriguing he found time for you

There was a wiry energy in him
That would stick throughout the years
A restlessness that comes from within
Where lack of purpose is chief of fears

Intolerable to some, yet always himself
Laws were questions that might lead to crime
Enough money that he never sought wealth
I wonder if you've met such a man in your time?

***

Inspired by General Chrome from Iconoclasts, listening to his "Preacher" theme https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zom7tH7yWeI