Arranging and scurrying around,
Seeking the arrival
That seems more illusive than justice?
Full speed ahead,
Don't they say fortune favors the bold?
But halting abruptly
As we must if we are to keep our sanity
Finding ourselves in another Cul-de-Sac.
The sprocket kicks off the chain
As our feet slip from the pedals
Thank God for the asphalt
Because at least we can put our foot down to restart.
I wonder about the running tally
Of turnabouts in my life
Shifting into reverse
And rolling over the refuse of costly mistakes,
Investments in nothing more than passing fancy
Now handed off at one third the price.
But they had so captured me at the time
Flashes of shine catching my eye
Deviation from the magnetic pull
Weak though it is
Toward my scripted route.
Veer here and veer over there,
Zig-zagging my way through days
Always confidently pursuing
The next memory to be found only in pictures,
Captured digitally and flickered on a screen.
There's no program for rewind
A subroutine never compiled
So all we can capture from each Cul-de-Sac
Is the lesson expensively bought,
But soon forgotten by eyes too weak to focus
On anything but vapor.
Destiny knows better, though,
Than our vanity and flimsy whims
The ticking of the clock as we sleep
Reminding us of how much we have spent
And how little we have to show for it,
But then again, so much,
Somehow crafted from mistakes,
A life complete and filled.
We run right by what we really need,
Into the next Cul-de-Sac,
Chasing what we want,
And getting what we were supposed to
Copyright @ Chris Brady 2010