Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I was tempted to sleep a hundred years,
To never take a chance…
My father’s depression warned me,
Dampen the music, never dance.
I moved out to a farm alone,
New world: stray people, hillbillies,
Reinvented my very own solitude…
Koi, pigs, laughter, cows, and fillies.
Real estate and fire departments,
Art galleries and history teaching….
Connections made like spider webs,
Gathering people, always growing, reaching.
Each step a once feared daring risk…
Built the path to make me something.
Years of fear were spent in vain;
The only risk was in doing nothing.