My Poem ‘It’s a tradition’

I love reunions;
I love keeping traditions;
I love catching up
and reconnecting with old friends;
I love being there when a friend of mine
is sharing their gift with me
live and in person,
that instantly transports me back
to a time way back when;
I love giving all the support that I can;
I love the feeling of hearing someone I know
remember me, mention me,
care that I am who they always know I am going to be:
a passionate, supportive, friend,
moon in orbit around them, life-long fan.

To forget a face is impossible for me;
to not be there when a friends calls out to me,
even from far away, is beyond imagining;
to overcome anything in my way,
to be where I am needed, is what I do;
to believe what I know and what I feel
deep in my heart and soul
is something I am proud of;
and if you know me,
then you will know that
that is nothing new.

Time-traveling is a passion for me.
I may not be able to physically travel through time,
but I have perfected the skill
that everybody has to quantum leap
back into the body and mind of their younger-self.
Time travel is not just something
that people can do in science-fiction –
it is a gift that for me is easy to do
and use to remind myself,
without changing anything
that might affect the present in any way,
what the most important things about life there are to remember,
and to hold on to them so they can’t ever drift away.

I do forget sometimes
how much I do share, and have shared, with people;
I often need reminding
who I am, and how lucky I am –
however, as soon as I hear a certain voice,
as soon as a particular song starts playing,
it is a moment for me that is beautiful,
and I again believe with every fiber of my being
that the universe does indeed have a plan.

I have always believed that traditions are important;
I will remember as much of my life,
for as long as I can, with a passion;
I am constantly learning about new and old ways
of not allowing things to be forgotten –
every day, in every way, everywhere on this planet;
I will continue to return, repeat, keep,
and remember that things and the places I am remembered for;
and for as long as I can, I will be there,
doing what I do, and keeping my own
meaningful and amazing traditions.

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.