It’s Getting Real

Things swing,
Back and forth like a pendulum,
Around a pole like a tether ball,
They just go,
The pendulum keeping its time
Steady, predictable, patient
Where a tether ball races and slows,
Tracking erratically through space.

Days are things,
Most often tethering,
Least like to have a cool pendulum swerve.
It’s these days when I’m flying around
That I must remember this is life
With its ebbs, flows, and rhythms,
Filled with joys and heartaches
All there to be swung upon.

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