Grant me some patience,
I’ve sat fingering frets,
Lingering over regrets,
Stubbing out cigarettes;
Ask where my faith went,
It’s here and it’s hefty,
Put it to the test,
Back down on the bench;
Lifting a spirit is a much bigger ask,
It can’t be raised up with cash:
That’s all gone in a dash;
The weight of tomorrow’s promise is nada,
In hushed tones it whispers “mañana, mañana”,
To the young Prince chauffeured from the palace,
To the man who crawled out of The Cave;
Only to realise that life lived is gifted; that we all have to face and embrace the grave.
The only thing certain since the curtain was lifted: We all have a date we can’t break.
Amidst the madness of this rush to nowhere… of course,
Where could patience possibly fit into discourse?
It all starts to feel a bit forced, so I have to:
Ask why you’re following trends? Set ’em.
The means is the ends; the meaning is blessed.
originally published on honest.cash