in the morning the light comes in. the monkey mind bounces awake from a dream like state…it starts to remind you of the goings on in life. get some breakfast to feed you in your journey the belly muses. the cold air meets you with a welcome briskness as you enter your own arena. chasing the imaginary tale of your yesterday, trying to solve an impossible puzzle in a complex race. like chasing a shadow, the pot of gold no longer the object, a race of infinite splendor and hopeless imaginations. a race in circles, a chance at everything resulting in nothing. a journey to end us in the beds we climb out of, but better then staying in bed all along.

around and around we go. kiss the wife, go to school, eat breakfast and brush the teeth. with atoms splitting and cells multiplying we are complex versions of a molecular dance where our countless bending, scheming and playing is laid out in a naked display of shameless exhibitions. we perfect it, or shrink away from it as we tweak the myriad approaches in our search for a perfect dance. our choices limited, our cards dealt, into the stream we go and best not to get caught in any of the traps that await.

in each day, a possibility of getting sidetracked exist. frustration born out of anything in your way, traffic, obstacles or simply a common cold can throw it all in disorder. stopping to think what we are doing or why we are doing it will trip you up, cause others to scorn and perhaps get you replaced in the race to the other side. a race downward, or sideways, but a race nonetheless. each arena full of onlookers and tracked in measurable quantities for progress and to separate the winners from the losers.