In This World...

nothing is as it appears to be. We are told to learn to cope, to adapt. And here we are achanging, but the assault doesn't halt. We are not catching breaks. Our breath is never caught. These rapids are never ending; we can see for miles, but that sight might as well be blind, as we cannot distinguish those approaching figures, those obstacles. We cannot prepare ourselves for that leap.

I am a believer in that life is about balance, in our hands and out.
Life runs in cycles. High and low, but in the end, rolling over middle ground.
But, as the days drag on and my soul withers, weakens, with every half minded blow,
I cannot get it out of my head.
'What if this does not balance out?'
'What if on average peoples' lives balance out?'
'One runs to the top, another drowns in poverty and ill morale.'
Would that not balance out?
Would that not equal 0 in the end. Base line. Right?

So, as I drag my feet, plowing onward, I can't help but sing to myself,
"Oh! ye'll take the high road and
I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye;
But me and my true love
Will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond."

But, in the end, statistically, we'll be Even Stevens.