Daily Archives: December 5, 2015

Nothing Worth Doing

Note:  Including this in the name of inclusiveness.  I’ve been working for the past few days on musical efforts for the band, and needed something to fit a particular piece of music.  I don’t really write lyrics, but can’t deny that this has a more “lyrical” quality to it than a lot of my other work.  

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Can’t see the sane without seeing the mad

Can’t think about one and not the other

A blink is darkness embedded in light

When a baby never cries we get worried and sad


Can’t see the ugly without seeing the lovely

You’ve got to have one if you have the other

A flower disappears when it turns into fruit

When a baby never cries we know something is wrong

Sometimes it feels like
it’s hard to keep going
Like putting out effort 
is the province of fools

But if nothing’s worth doing
what are we doing here
Might as well hang it up
Might as well move along

Can’t see a saint without knowing they’ve sinned

Can’t hear shouts without listening for whispers

A storm clears the air as it tears up the town

A baby gone silent gets us pacing the floor

Sometimes it feels like
it’s hard to keep going
Like putting out effort 
is the province of fools
But if nothing’s worth doing
what are we doing here
Might as well hang it up
Might as well move along

We keep moving through all the confusion
Keep moving through all of the crazy
Keep moving through all of the bullshit
Keep moving till we drop in our tracks

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Gratitude

That there is such a thing
as a cedar waxwing — olive splash
high up in the crowns of trees,
rarely seen though plentiful because
we keep our eyes low —

that there is such a thing
as a leopard slug — elegant
upon the sidewalk, long enough
that when first glimpsed it can shock
with its size, its patterned skin,

its silver path laid out behind it —

that there are such beings
right outside the front door,
that they endure in spite of us and our
casual, presumed engulfing of all,
our arrogance regarding our absolute power
over nature —

that such as these remain
although we think we’ve taken all away,
wringing our hands over our Power —

that such things exist to rebuke such hubris
with the laughter of their persistence
is my unending joy, my fallback from despair —

to know that we will likely not endure
as long as these will
is enough knowledge of the future
to keep me here.