Sometimes, oh sometimes…
It feels dry not to rise up in search for the nearest oasis
Instead of sitting in wait for a rainy day.
It feels scorching not to escape from a burning fire
Instead of expecting some rescuer to come around with a fire extinguisher.
It feels itchy not to take the first step
Instead of waiting in a lonely corner for so long to be found.
It feels dead to be torn by a dreadful past
Instead of tearing it up to embrace a brighter future.
It feels weird to imagine the clock from left to right
Ever ticking
That will be anti-clockwise
And we will be going back into time.
But do ghosts ever become living?
Or the dead ever breathing?
Or statues ever moving?
Or the earth ever stationary?
Doesn't an expired bottle of fresh milk
Forever remain stale?
All are hardly ever undone.
Sometimes, oh sometimes…
It feels just right to knock on the door of Mr. Opportunity
To find exactly where he is, his true colors and especially how he operates.
And when we are done finding him,
We should introduce ourselves
And humbly ask: “Dear Mr. Opportunity, will you gently do me a favor?”
*Also visit Panorama-Blaze
~Poem by Trudy-Elsie
07-09-10
12:40pm
Great piece!
ReplyDeleteMr. Opportunity oftentimes disguises himself, which makes it hard to identify him. I wonder what the response of Mr. Opportunity could be when asked such a humble question..'
~In reality, the same could be written about finding Mr. Right! *winks*
Keyshe.
Thanks for the lovely comment. :-)
ReplyDelete