Lifes Work

When I am the morning sun, I kiss the mountaintops I turn them red and orange to mark my arrival To say this is the starting line of life, not just survival I fill the valleys with cotton and mist and raise it to ease your eyes open Softly, gently, I bring you to me… When I am the morning sun, I greet you with a smile A smile a mile wide and ten miles high I live and breathe my life in to everything around, just to wake you Just to see you Just to be, with you I kiss the clouds, each and every one I kiss them and tell them who you are My lover, my friend, my soft cheek where my lips press The one I trusted above all the rest… When I am the morning sun, I race for miles to be at your window To light up your room, to warm your soul To prepare you for the day, another day of life A life you don’t take for granted A life that starts with me kissing you softly When I am the morning sun, I rise knowing you are the one and only And I give that to you so you never have to feel lonely… When I am the morning sun…

Will I always be a mystery? Some times I really hope so It would kept the search going for a while longer Process… Possess… Possess is what leads me to what? Maybe it never has anything to do with the results or the end Process is what keeps us alive until we die and that is where I get stuck Is it all about affecting the next generation? Hoping that they will turn things around Hoping that you can redeem your mistakes What if it’s not… It’s all just a game we dreamt up because there isn’t anything more to it You are born, you have a life, and you die Weather that life is 100 years or 10 seconds Your life is all there is It doesn’t matter how many people you affect Or how much money you can accrue No one else has done this too us… This… We have done to ourselves… Live it like you mean it

Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky-tacky, Little boxes, little boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There’s a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. And the people in the houses All go to the university, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. And there’s doctors and there’s lawyers And business executives, And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. And they all play on the golf-course, And drink their Martini dry, And they all have pretty children, And the children go to school. And the children go to summer camp And then to the university, And they all get put in boxes And they all come out the same. And the boys go into business, And marry, and raise a family, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There’s a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same. by Malvina Reynolds

Youth is wasted on the young Privilege and power is wasted on the old The old send the young off to die Do they graph their profits using bodies on the x-axis? We are the hooded figure standing naked on a box We are held hostage by the lies Just mere lambs being led to the slaughter Can you keep yourself from taking that final step Into that gas chamber of a shower The only way to end the fear, the control Is to understand the past, not just the popular history But the real ugly truth that lays underneath the hype

It shows in your face Making the right choice It brings you down, making you crawl back up To where you started from days ago Bad habits Like the treadmill Tire you out Only because the question, the option is still there for you It’s the hard choices The last ones you give up or fight for Those make the path vibrant Knowing the path and walking it It would be so much easier if you didn’t know what the right path was But this is your personal legacy To know the path, to walk the path, to evolve beyond our personal addictions What is lacking when you look inside I just want a little release… Then find it. Do it. Why compensate when you can always give up tomorrow