Legacy

It takes vision
——
Only you can see it…
So you have to carry it
And cast it everyday
——-
Why’s it so hard?
Why’s it everyday?
Why’s it changing me?
Why’s it breaking me and rebuilding me?
Why does it ask so much of me?
——
Because it’s not about today …
——
Well,
You’re not getting …
——-
It’s not about today…
——-
But you should be …
——
It’s not about today…
——
You deserve ….
——
It’s not about today ….
——-
It’s about the back end…
It’s about the future…
You’re fighting against yourself
Your future self
Your humanity
——
It’s going to take everything you’ve got and then some…
Fresh fire
Fresh faith
Fresh discipline
Fresh vision
daily
To get you there …
This is about the future
Your future
——
Are you building leaders?
Are you adding value
Or are you watering down your values
Your principles
Your vision ?
——
Stay the course !
This is your future
Your vision
No one else has it
No one else sees it
Because it’s you…
Your family
Your children
Your future
——
It’s not about today…
It’s about the future …
The legacy you’re leaving behind
You’re building that daily…
Start building …
——
What else is there?
——

-E

History

There was a time not too long ago
Past this scorched earth
Beyond this social hyperbole
Of media and mass indulgence
There in the beginning
Where a poet was fortunate to survive
To come out the other side
Into the morning
To finish the ongoing line …
——
I don’t have much stomach for current things
I don’t care about skin care routines
I don’t care about influencers
I don’t care
To care ….
——
Here we are on the brink
Of spurious intellectualism and activism
Poetry has always been somewhat a self portrait and running inner dialogue …
But it’s never been so proud as to exalt itself nor its own demons
We say we’ve left the crucifixion
Yet we haven’t even experienced sanctification or much less repentance …
This turning away – from and beginning – towards…
—-
There is a driving hammer in the echo and eye of the storm…
There is a nail through flesh and splintering dogwood…
There is the suiciding
The addiction
And the manic
——
These things used to not be praised
Our afflictions
——
you can sit
High and intoxicated
And talk to change the world over
But years will pass overnight and you will be old
addictions and vices
cravings and hunger
Will hold you captive there
Repeating the same weekend year after year
——
But still
There is a tunnel ahead
It is security
144 miles a day
720 a week
50 hours
Your heart stops in the night
While reaching for bread
What are you left with?
A stale breath
——-
What are you leaving
Where are you building
Or are you only chasing …
Believing the next thing….
The next place…
The next person…

Build
Build
Choose
Always be in control of your own self

“And some from among you shall build the old waste places; raising up the foundations of many generations; and be called The repairers of the breach, The restorers of paths to dwell in.”

We are so different now
I am so far from who I once was

Control what you can control
And decide
You decide
Choose
Always
Begin
Today
What else is there?

  • E

The reality of champions

I don’t believe in perfect
I believe in getting better
In baseball you can lose 60 games and still be champions …
The worst team will win 60 and the best team will lose 60 …it’s what they do with the other 42 that counts…
The first 75 percent of the season isn’t as important as the last 25 percent …
——
Consider your life
Stop putting so much pressure on yourself…
Just keep going…
——
Every player gets his shot at the plate
It doesn’t matter how hard you threw when you were drafted
It’s how well you control right now
It doesn’t matter how well you hit
You have to throw that ball across the plate and give every player his shot …
—-
That’s life
You just keep going
You don’t stop
Don’t stop
You’re going to win some and lose some
But it’s what you do after that – that really counts …
Get in the box and keep swinging
Get on the mound and just throw the best pitch you can…
The rest will handle itself …
-E

The old places

Another Friday night
And he’s sitting at the bar again
drink at hand
If you caught him after
Three
Six
Nine
He’d look – is it his eyes or his hands that stop the shakes??
You’d hear him say
It’s not the drink he thirsts for
It’s a life of purpose
Somewhere he feels he lost himself
Or his way …
Now,
She makes her rounds
Cigarette in hand
She welcomes all the men from the city
And there’s a band on stage
Reminding you we’re all doing what we can …
And there’s the chosen golden few
Who smoke or drink outside
Believing they are somehow separate and different
But between the bars and the chord change
They feel their wheels spinning
As if to say hometowns and sin are something we all have in common
Like the broken artist
Writer
Poet
Bleeding out into his drink
To anyone who will listen
About a life he could have had
If he just had courage
And if we just had hearts
——-
Now we are rushed on time
Trying to get ahead
Only downtown
it’s already flooded
——-
My hands are tied
I need to get away
To the water
To the mountains
To a place in mind
Where I remember growing up
Though the memory isn’t too clear
They muddy the water
And the water keeps rising
I wish for more time
And I get sick in the gut
From writing the lines
Me me me
I and I and I
What is courage my son
But to eat when you are hungry
To sleep when you are tired
To know the Lord when you are hurting
To know the heart is right
If the heart is right
You don’t have to worry about the rest
But the holiness inside of us
Somewhere we forgot who we are
We don’t build and we don’t repair
The old places are in ruins
What an opportunity to rebuild

She said I am two different people
And she can see between the lines
God said the walls are coming down
And we are out of time

-E
Regardingsamuel.com