It’s more comfortable to sit in a corner
than to sort out a meaningful path,
to stay in stasis at yesterday.
I meant for my life to matter,
I yearn for difference tomorrow
though comfort means to sit around.
How boring – though safe – to sit around,
sucking my thumb, a tot in a corner
hiding from fear of tomorrow,
fear of the forks in the path
but heck, does it really matter
whether I fear the unknown or yesterday?
How soothing is the fiend yesterday?
Resentments dance with shoulds around
oughts and regrets. A trivial matter
lurks there for years, leaping from a corner
into my way, blocking the well-chosen path
to imagined triumphs and honor tomorrow.
What if I fall on my face, humbled tomorrow
as I have been these countless haunting yesterdays?
Does nobility, courage of the chosen path
shine brightly, or does disaster peek at me around another
inevitable blind corner — ubiquitous “theys” say only todays matter.
I could have been a contender. I could matter
in grand schemes of the history of tomorrow.
Does fame – or infamy – lurk around that corner?
When I look at the future as another yesterday
will it seem to have changed for I was around?
Will admiration trace my innovative path?
Like Merlin, God lives backwards, the path
clear from one end as the other, matters’
meanings unmuddled. He turns around
and surveys, satisfied, countless tomorrows
and the coming versions of yesterday
laid out clearly, unblocked by turns and corners.
God’s present, around as I ponder each path
knowing what a corner may hide. It doesn’t matter
I can’t see tomorrow. It’s my God’s yesterday.
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