This Time, These Times

For some reason 

I’m awake at 4:00 in the morning

With an audio loop in my head

That keeps saying something about

Who is right when everybody is wrong

Forgive my lapse at who sang the song

It is really early (Jack Johnson?)

I wonder what it would be like to know a trade

A blacksmith, wheelwright, or carpenter

To have the focus to work with materials

That were consistent and spoke to the craftsman of

Exactly what needed to be done

I wonder what it’s like to have that skill

Working all day making nails,

Turning a knave,

Or framing a house

I suppose the nostalgia I have in my mind

Of people working with the raw materials

Crafting usefulness and function

Are really just dreams now

For we live in this high stakes world

Of electricity, hyper charged sensitivity, and

A rush to get everything done

Maybe the days of handiwork were more simple,

Don’t we all say that when we get old,

I’m not sure what’s right

Nor am I sure what’s wrong anymore

The day’s move so fast

That the nails are barely driven before

They are replaced by screws

The wheels roll on

Only true to the wobble

And roofs leak not matter how often they are patched

Yet we keep going

Like hamsters with nothing better to do

Than run that wheel all day

And, then, find some dry, soft bedding to sleep on

Gotta get some sleep…

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