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 ‘The Foreseeable’

No matter how much the climate changes…
no matter the year, the decade, or the century…
no matter the faces of the famous
displayed online or printed
on the black and white newspaper pages…
no matter how we interact with one-another –
face to face, or by using the most
up-to-date technology…
some things will never change
and will always stay the same…
no matter what the names are
of the games that people love to play…
days and dates will always continue
to mean something –
especially on those occasions
when people can celebrate
and enjoy light that never stops sparkling.

Many of us are creatures of habit –
I, myself, have walked the same way,
done the same things,
listened to the same music so many times
that people could probably
set their clocks by me –
some may wonder what it is
about my almost daily-routine
that stimulates me and keeps me
from repeating my actions
to the degree that they become boring;
however, all I can say
is that no matter how many times
I go to the same place,
or I do the same thing,
every single day
I see something,
I hear something,
I learn something
that I never knew before –
and, to me, each new day
and every new person that I see
is a mystery to observe and explore.

Routine keeps the world turning;
repeating keeps an engine from stalling;
re-reading keeps a person’s thoughts running;
reevaluating everything you see
keeps the world exciting and inspiring;
reminding yourself of why it is important
to do some things regularly
remedies any and all short-comings
about you or your life
that you feel there may sometimes be.

For the vast-majority of our lives,
most of the things that happen to us
are predictable;
we all can have a so-called “ordinary day”,
during which there will be something
that will happen that will be remarkable;
our life’s cycles are some of the most
special and personal things
that we can always rely on and fall back on,
and they are what make our lives
feel full and wonderful;
the world will consistently remain
changeable, recyclable,
and indomitably-incapable
of not trying to reinvent itself
without breaking its own mould –
and in doing so
everything and everybody
will always have a part of them
that will be both random
and foreseeable.