In response to a prompt shared by a close friend.
All of Us, I Suppose
If I hadn’t met my parents,
I wouldn’t have been taught the pure, and simple side of good,
If I hadn’t learned the pure, and simple side of good,
I wouldn’t have longed to see good’s more complicated side, even just once,
If I hadn’t ventured to that other side of good,
I wouldn’t have heard such brilliance in reflection, hope, and rage,
If I hadn’t heard the brilliance in reflection, hope, and rage,
I would never have played an old trickster’s guitar,
If I hadn’t seen the glimmer in the trickster’s eyes and smile,
I wouldn’t have discovered that the story was just that—a story,
And if stories hadn’t always been the most important thing to me,
I wouldn’t have tried to make this one even more magical,
If I hadn’t believed that it could be so blessedly magical,
I wouldn’t have asked so, so many questions,
And if those questions hadn’t had so, so many answers,
I wouldn’t have ended up in Northern California with a song in my head,
If I hadn’t ended up in Northern California, drunk under the spell of that refrain,
I wouldn’t have twice burned my ships on Muir Beach,
If we hadn’t burned our ships—twice—on Muir Beach,
I wouldn’t have taken those steps, with no idea how to stop,
If I hadn’t started running before realizing that there’s no stopping,
I wouldn’t have gone to see the Bird Boy monument just before the sun rose,
If I hadn’t seen that silhouette’s courage, against blue and orange and red,
I wouldn’t have fully realized just how he painted the sky,
And if I hadn’t immersed myself in all the colors of that painted sky,
I wouldn’t know how to describe all the things I miss seeing in your eyes.
If I hadn’t aspired to describe all those things that I long to see in your eyes,
I wouldn’t have immersed myself in all the colors of a painted sky,
If I hadn’t fully realized how he painted the sky,
I wouldn’t have gone to see the Bird Boy just before the sun rose,
If I hadn’t seen his monumental silhouette against the azure and the orange,
I wouldn’t have started running,
And if I hadn’t taken those steps with no idea how to stop,
I wouldn’t have twice burned my ships on Muir Beach,
If we hadn’t burned our ships—twice—on Muir Beach,
I wouldn’t have found myself in Northern California with a song in my head,
If I hadn’t found myself in the rippling refrain of Northern California,
I wouldn’t have asked so, so many questions,
And if those questions hadn’t had so, so many answers,
I wouldn’t have found myself drunk on the moon,
believing that it all could be even more magical,
If I hadn’t tried to make it all so blessedly magical,
then stories wouldn’t have always been the most important thing to me,
If I hadn’t realized that stories were just that—stories,
Then I wouldn’t have been so riveted by the shimmer in the dilettante’s grin,
If I hadn’t come to own that ol’ dilettante’s guitar,
I wouldn’t have heard such brilliance in reflection, hope, and rage,
If I hadn’t heard the brilliance in reflection, hope, and rage,
I wouldn’t have ventured out to see that, like all of us, good has two sides,
If I hadn’t longed to see good’s other side just once,
I wouldn’t have learned the pure, and simple side of good,
And if I hadn’t been taught to appreciate the pure, and simple side of good,
I’d have never loved my parents so.
very nice.. keep on keeping on..
And if Eef had never played Fort Wayne would I have embraced the brick walls of the B-Side...and, eventually, this delicious Substack?