Abstract: Down, Looking Up
Life can be lived in a ditch,
you bet, yes sir.
A man can stare up at the towering and slick sides of his hell and wonder,
Where’s the staircase- despite knowing one doesn’t exist.
And so, he thinks his way is shut.
And life has nothing for him but fantasies and plans.
Sure, he’s made a run at it, and probably will again.
And can see the light straight ahead, down the far end of the gutter.
(Cause, the sun shines on every damn body,
high or low, clean or schmutzig.)
But when a man is down looking up, the light merely reveals, in grand detail, the sad state of his affairs,
and the impossible task he has to remedy them.
And when hopelessness rests on him like dew on the weeds,
He starts to make new plans,
to remain unyoked and unspoiled by the green grass on the cliff above.
