The spotlight goes on.
Greetings! My name is Wilson. I’m your comrade with a gift for the spoken word, and I’m about to tell my life’s story. Indulge me awhile, I promise it won’t bore. Plus, a few nuggets just might stick.
My life’s an epic, yes
The scenes will fill a tome, true
Play the strings now, please
We need some accompaniment to this tale.
I have braved many odds, me
Scaled mountains and crossed a thousand seas
I fight dragons and I’m scratched plenty
But my dragons perish and I live still.
I try to define myself prim and proper
But I keep bumping into walls and crossing borders
Uncertainty’s basic in this life, see
But hope’s unrelenting too.
I’m a child of wonder, surely
When I should brook an ambiance at the first
And it’s Deja Vu already
My life is split between nature and I
Inspiration oozes from every pore.
The hard stuff comes easy, I’m awed
The easy stuff stands hard, it’s weird
My weaknesses rise and become my strengths
My strengths fade into a weakness
I have but to admit to this truth evident
It is not I running this show.
What then’s my claim to fame, you ask?
I’m a child of divinity, don’t you see?
The life I live is not mine, really
I stand trustee of Life’s gift.
Gifted I am as you can see
But deep within my essence rests
Propelled to motion by a mandate divine,
My actions have import here and hereafter.
The world is crazy and life is weird
Indestructible, indefatigable, I still seem
But that is the deal if I stick with my maker
I will be here a pretty long time, yeah
On a roll and blazing hot.
Have I a witness to this tale of grace?
A kindred soul on the heels of Purpose?
Take my hand then, you who believe
Let us jointly unleash potential’s bounty
Let’s make the world a better place.
I hold the fort, gallantly
Hands on the plow, ain’t no looking back
When this business here is done
I see me showered a rapturous welcome.
In a twinkling I am transported to a familiar place on earth – my bedroom. Wifey is tapping and pushing on my numb torso, calling my name from a distant place.
It takes a while but I finally capture my bearings.
“What is it, dear,” I slur.
“You are talking in your sleep!”
At the news, a layer – just a layer – of drowsiness evaporates. Embarrassment descends like a shiver, but I’m groggy still. I place a hand on her lap and brush feebly.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” I say.
But she gives me the ‘what do you mean’ look.
“Poetry?” she repeats, bewildered somewhat. “You mean you were reciting-”
I put up a pleading hand to make her stop. Please say no more.