Communique

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Now I paint birds and roost in the winter…

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The Game of Life

At times, in this life, I am a bubble in the wind; random and aimless. This life? Well, this life just didn’t seem to materialize as I had hoped. I didn’t plan, I did not know. Sometimes, I was too stoned, or too drunk. I  could not quite get to the plate to bat; I was too wasted to find the bat; I was forever the outfielder waiting to catch something that was an elusive whim. I stood there, behind the diamonds of dreams, and dropped every ball, rare and stinging. I heard it plop as it reached my hand and bounced into another’s. I watched with wide eyes, and a beatless heart. It was as if it sailed my way to remind me, there is life here, and a good life, but not for you. You cannot catch this life. It was not meant for you to grasp, but we would like you to know all you miss. We don’t want you to know you lost the game, but that others around won and while you wept, they clutched their ball like the world, the globe in their hand was a reminder, you have failed at every attempt, at every swing you took, you struck out like a champ.
 Isn’t it a great comfort to know Reggie Jackson had the most strike outs, and hails in the hall of fame?