I cherish this, it strikes a chord
In times of trouble, tribulation calls
But all in all life goes by
Alas I know who is above?
To guide me through each day I live
When reading this, please bear in mind
I am just with hopes to last the day
Thank you
THE PITCH
…. (1)
The pitch is wide and narrow, it is far and near
The pitch is fast and slow, it is nature and forced
It is wet and dry, it is hard and soft.
It could be round or square, all differing shade
We will play on the pitch whether it is big or small
We will stay on the pitch, grass being tall or short.
You play your game, which ever shape it takes
You can give up at the start or quit in the middle; you can go on and on until the fat lady sings
There are boundaries, there are rules, and there are conditions just as well.
We live by it, or die by it; we are right up against it or all for it.
We kick the ball there is no choice to direct our way with a turn or twist.
With that in mind we ought to know that the end result could change the plan
The spectators are there in one’s and two’s, in ten’s or more they all show up.
Some go, some stay just the way it is, they are never far from choosing a side
The whistle is blown with no one in sight, we have the choice of who will guide
… (2)
Our life will move towards the post, gravitating direction to life propose
Our steps and kicks are please to see, it makes the crowd roar in plight or glee.
The wise will fish for skill and bliss to carry him through the end of the game
The fool is full of pride and hype without a sense to find and seek
Some crowd will chant to encourage your deed, some with hope, praying in believe.
Some will show envy in path, some cry wolf that guile their vile
The pitch is lonely and can be holy; it shows difference between hope and glory
The support and repulse may be blind and visual; this never mattered in the sight of might
The path of pitch is mist and fog, soundless whistle will pave the way
The tone for those who care to hear, never ending for all to bear
The pitch is filled with this and that, expect each blow for you or not
The pitch is pitched and so it is, whether we live or cease to be
Koka March 2011