Tick tock goes the clock
We wake up from dreams we thought
Would have long ago been resolved
But this one is odd
It's recurring over
Over the past few nights
Of a divided four lane road
And sodium street lights
She looks like she did then,
Floors upon floors up
I remember this place from years before
Only this is west, not east
Not the same, different
4 years thence
Strange I think
I have freedom
Of movement, of will
Instead of molasses
In this place
We joke, we talk
I embrace, you falter
I insist, you resist
This is resolution that does not subsist
What's surprising is that it's not surprising
That you would show up at this time
This place, with this freedom, and
Pass the test I give myself by proxy
As all dreams of mine do
They work things out
Sorry, Clarince.
This Lord's day eve, consider the deep things observed by physics and astronomy.
We live on a very unique blue dot that's like a grain of sand in an unfathomably-sized ocean containing innumerable other grains of sand, all of which we've found so far being incapable of sustaining anything like human life. These grains of sand revolve around other glowing grains of sand, that revolve together in clusters that further flow in a delicate dance, all set in motion just so according to very precise tolerances. If even one of the many physical constants we've measured were off by just a small fraction, it's likely that there would not be the order we see amidst the constant march of entropy through time. There would be chaos. There would most likely be no us.
Ponder the vastness. Ponder the probabilities. If you've performed an earnest reflection of it all, you'll be scooping up your melted brain off the floor and have a much healthier perspective of just how much we actually matter in the grand scheme of things, and how very, very special we are, all at the same time.
Make hay, Haymaker.
Your weapons
are clarity and
the sword of the spirit.
From under
your helm of salvation you
will bring forth your war cry.
Anchor
your sabatons of peace,
plant
your shield of faith firmly in
front.
From the belt of truth
pull your horn, beat
your mighty fists on your
breastplate of righteousness and
blow a note so mighty and clear
as to strike
fear
into the heart of your enemies,
and into the heart of
the enemies of God.