My Poem “Autopilot”

During the day when I am at work
I feel like I am on autopilot –
while at night I feel free to be,
free to live how I want to live,
and free to dream while still awake
about the things that complete
my heart and make me happy.

Cycles and routines define our existence
in this modern age, as they always have
in one way or another, in some shape or form…
most living things have their own preference
when it comes to when they feel
the most energized and alive –
some feel their most inspired
while gazing up at a sky of starlight,
while others feel invigorated
when the first light of the sun breaks at dawn.

Sometimes we do things so often, day after day,
that they become second nature to us
and we do them without even thinking…
when something or someone becomes
a constant in our lives
we can come to believe that
a life without them in it would not be worth living.

There are times in our lives when we need to make a choice,
but we don’t know how to make it –
and when that predicament occurs
each and every one knows that we can allow destiny
to choose for us and let God take the wheel of our life
and steer us in the direction that we are fated to take.

Autopilots are great… autopilots are amazing…
autopilots are a simple solution to a complex problem –
however, where is the living? Where is the fun?
Where is the imagination that comes out of the random?
Life can sometimes be predictable
and what happens next can sometimes be predicted,
and there is nothing wrong with that –
however, in my experience, nothing can ever compare
to the act of spontaneity and living in the moment.

Sometimes, because we think that we can predict
the outcome of something, we can become complacent
and we no longer expect the unexpected –
and, in a way, that is a good thing,
because when something happens that our inner autopilot
does not know how to deal with
each of us is forced to adapt and think outside the box
that we sometimes feel trapped within,
and we must do what we human beings do best:
live, dream, imagine, and act on our instincts.

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My Poem “Evolution”

Walking out the door into a misty morning…
instantly feeling the biting cold of the wind…
watching the sun rise, illuminate the sky,
and colour it from blue to gold…
listening and hearing the song of the early birds
as they awaken, fly, and forage among
the leaves still on the trees
that are in the process of changing, falling,
and returning to the ground from whence they came…
living day after day –
bound by instinct, grounded by gravity –
every thing and everybody instantly knows
what to do and when to do it without having to be told.

Seasonal cycles exist for a reason – as does everything…
evolution is not a myth – change is a necessity…
putting one front in front of the other,
venturing out, above, or below,
is the only way to experience the world
with every one of your senses…
what is artificial soon loses its appeal,
whereas what is natural never gets old…
what is temporary can be bound within a nutshell –
but that which will last can never be confined forever,
no matter how tall the walls or the fences
that surround them are.

I always welcome the wonder of new inspiration…
I always welcome using my gifts
to adapt to something that has changed…
I always welcome the sun shining,
the heat rising, the wind blowing,
the leaves falling, the Earth spinning,
the seasons changing,
so that I can witness with my own eyes
the world around me evolving.

My Poem ‘Like Clockwork’

Every form of biological life
has a rhythm to their biology
that the very cells of their body
run by, and run on-time to –
from the first light of a sunrise in the morning,
to the dark at the end of the day at night;
everybody’s body is governed by a Circadian cycle,
that repeats daily, that happens naturally,
that does what it needs to do, silently,
that we all partake in,
like a life worshiping disciple.

Rhythms and cycles surround us all;
and we too have a set orbit,
like that of a planet circling around a star,
that we need to maintain or things just don’t feel right;
rises and falls, ups and downs;
someone’s heart-rate, or the beat of someone’s pulse –
something so regular, it can easily be measured,
and can give focus to all of our senses,
like the sound of footsteps down a long hall.

Everyone has a revolving ‘merry go round’,
a carousel, that they jump on at some time in their life,
which they stay on, and once they are spinning happily
and contently they find it hard to get off;
everybody ticks in time with everyone around them,
and walks at a pace like that of the fast hand of a watch,
and their heart beats like the resounding tock of a clock;
everyone who has a job is more than familiar with routines,
and doing things over and over in the same way
that they were first shown, told, and taught –
and if changes need to be made,
and if you need to adapt,
like the gears of an engine,
you need to shift up, or shift down:
you must do what you must do,
to save the engine of your life from a stall.

Most of the conscious things that we do,
we do based on a feeling;
most of the things that we know we have control over,
we can make slight modifications
as to how we do them –
but when we do something over and over again,
we most likely revert to our finely-tuned quirks;
most of the unconscious acts that take place,
happen out of our sight, and the reason for some of them
is beyond even our understanding;
almost everything that we all do,
happens based on a repeated and constantly repeating rhythm,
that keeps going no matter what,
and is as predictable and precise as clockwork.