Behind, through and around the hustle,
overshadowing the artifacts of movers’ and shakers’
forsaken, weathered and new-found dreams,
she asserts her prior claims.
Too busy showing off, showing up,
making up, making do, to notice?
Too bad. She weighs in on both sides
of your tidy ledger. Profit or lose.
Wish her, push her, scheme her away,
however you like.
When you’re done and gone,
she’ll still be playing around,
just as her fancy suits her.
You’ll stand up, run ahead and fall down,
no matter. She’ll do what she wants,
sometimes simply to put you in your place,
leaving you at best scratching your head.
Your outland cousins, on a good day,
have a clearer take with a lot less effort,
look down your nose, as you may.
Whatever. All is not lost.
Just stop, for starters.
Look. Listen. Soon enough you’ll see.
Modesty has never been her strong suit.
Say it’s so.
Everything is in play.
Go ahead, flip it around.
In play is everything.
In the play of things
is the play, it’s all about.
Children know this.
It takes great maturity
to forget it and step aside.
The game is up.
Or down, as the case may be.
First down, ten to go.
Play ball, you know
there’s room for all,
for the play is on
in the ball room.
So, get on with it. Have a ball.
Take a spin.
Shimmy and shake,
whatever it takes.
Give it all you’ve got.
Show ‘em all what gives.
Swing on back around.
It’s all the same.
The play’s the thing,
the name of the game.
Everything’s in play.
Say it’s so.
Keep looking around.
That’s how you will remember
you’re both big and small.
When at heart confused,
take a walk on the wild side.
Forget what you know.
Nothing’s precisely and exactly what is granted.
Behind, before, beyond Everything is Nothing.
Get with this.
So, first we have Nothing.
Then, Everything happens.
Happening’s It, get it?
It’s not there.
Nothing’s what’s there.
See It happen.
And then Happening.
Happening’s where it’s at.
Now watch It.
It’s Everything Happening.
Coming together and falling apart are Happening.
Take it step by step,
From Then until Now until Then,
From There to Here to There,
It’s What’s happening.
Take It in.
It’s what’s happening.
Now, picture It.
Nothing rocks and rolls.
Nothing waves hello and goodbye.
There’s a whole lot of Nothing going on.
Nothing’s going on.
And on, and on, and on.
Until there’s so much Nothing going on,
Something starts going on
While Nothing keeps going on
Something’s rocking and rolling,
Something’s waving hello and goodbye,
Something’s shaking and baking,
Something gets hot to trot.
And then It happens.
There’s a whole lot of It going on,
It’s rocking and rolling, hot to trot,
waving hello and goodbye, shaking and baking,
All while Nothing’s going on.
Something’s rumbling and tumbling, slipping and sliding,
doing the bump and the grind,
Something’s on the move, this way and that way,
All helter-skelter, jigging around, tripping the light fandango.
Until It’s hard,
Hard, to hide Something’s going on while Nothing’s going on.
Always, by all means,
Something’s going on, while Nothing’s going on,
slipping and sliding, waving hello and goodbye,
even when It’s hard to hide.
So, It goes, rocking and rolling.
Something gets picky and sticky.
Something says Yes.
Something says No.
Here I thought Death and I
had an understanding, Brian,
when I paid a nice visit a while back,
the first real vacation I had in years.
We parted on friendly terms
because I still had things to do,
like hang out with you and your posse
and lend a hand helping out
the hurtingest folks around.
I was totally down with our understanding
I’d be coming back to stay one day
when my deeds were done.
Man, though, what’s up with this,
you taking off right in the middle
of the game for the championship?
Whose idea was this, anyway?
Not yours I’m sure. So, Death and I,
we need to have a talk.
Us, you left behind, heads and hearts
spinning crazy, we’ll get it together
and do what we got to do,
without your glowing and singing company.
We always do, when a key player is down for the count.
Still, Big Guy, we don’t have to like it. At all.
Don’t think for a minute we’ll forget,
and count on it, you come pay us a visit
when you start finding the company of angels
a little boring, and you know for sure
we’ll be on the lookout, wanting to hear
the straight skinny from where you’re at.
But hey, one last favor we’ll ask of you,
because you were always our best salesman
and story-teller: Please tell Death for us,
as far as we’re concerned, your number
was not up, no matter what the wannabe
wise guys in fancy robes might try to sell us.
All I can think is
Death misread the calendar, I do that a lot,
or else was having a really, really bad day,
and forgot what time it was.
Not your time. No way.