He woke up early and began to pray. The same way he began each day. He held back tears and fought off fears; his heart told him just what to say.

His life thus far had rocky roads. His back was bent neath heavy loads. He had no joy; no rest or peace. His constant pain would never cease.

There was no hope; no love in sight. No dawn to end his pitch-dark night. Yet somehow still he soldiered on; his prayer became his marching song.

©canadian_cowboy

So you think you know the reason why it is that we're all here? You think you've got it sussed and that it's crystal clear? But what you fail to realize is that you don't know who to trust. The people who have taught us are also made of dust.

You're strong in your convictions; you never doubt the facts. You read the science books but don't inspect the cracks. You back your suppositions; hold strong to your beliefs. But have you ever smoked a joint and doubted all your briefs?

Life is not at all what it at first appears to be. All you need to show that is some archaeology. Gaze up at the stars at night, or the moon during the day; check out Machu Picchu and reflect on what you say.

We'd be pretty ****** foolish; and equally naive; to place all our bets on the lies that people weave. I don't mean that in a mean way, or disrespectfully; it's meant to show my love and camaraderie.

And hey, I know, that sounds real cocky, 'cause I've no monopoly on truth. But I've got something tangible that's both evidence and proof. If you want to hang a while I'm happy to expound; I'll blow your mind and steal your heart and shake your faithless ground.

© Canadian Cowboy




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