A photo was posted and a promised reward.
But they had misspelled my name.
I decided to call and have it corrected.
The assistant to the editor was very appreciative.
“We strive for accuracy.” she said.
I told her that I was only too glad to help and hung up the phone.
I walked over a bridge one day
and stopped half-way.
Such promise did the other side hold. . .
retreat was not an option
as I longed for something new.
If I stand forever still
in the median of my desire
will time wait as I?
Or do I run,
recklessly forward
and wonder someday where it all has gone?
Below the bridge,
an endless abyss,
where folly abounds
and better men than I
have fallen.
Did you hear that?
It was the sound of men dying
And no one gave a thought
to tip their ear in the direction
of the cry
or to follow the call
Are you all mad!
or deaf?
Listen
Did you hear that?
When you stop breathing for five minutes, everything changes
and what you thought would be your future freezes
along with your limbs.
Your plans instantly turn to wishful thinking
and happiness becomes a trivial matter.
While getting where you want to go takes priority,
what you thought was important is now meaningless
and material things become useless clutter.
Hell is a continual reminder that you are inadequate
and unable to produce your dreams.
While the rest of the world struts around in their vibrato,
believing themselves superior
with the need to flaunt the illusion to anyone willing to believe the lie,
you remain steadfast and confident in your success
at continuing to breathe.
Samuel DiPaola 