Our Making

I wonder how much of life we spend outside of “meaningfulness”?

Tumbling through the weeds;

Drifting in dizzying day-dreams.

Stuck in the doldrums – of what we claim as “reality”.


Because, if we attract what we expect,
then why don’t we become what we respect?

Because, if we find what we seek,
then why don’t we reflect what we desire?

Because, if life takes the meaning we give it,
then why don’t we mirror what we admire?


Why do we tumble?

Why do we drift?

Why do we feel stuck?


When life is our making?

And what we make it –
is only limited by how big we aspire.

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