Fall semester starts tomorrow. It’ll be exciting - for a few days - but it won’t be long before we’ll miss the tanned bodies of summer, the cool, clear lake-water or lounging carefree, on bright, sand-like gravel beaches.

Tomorrow, things will be different. Our days will start earlier, they'll be a value - a new currency - to morning hours that went wasted on unproductive summer vacations. The change will be sudden, herk, there may be an audible pop of some sort, somewhere, in tonight’s darkest hours.

We’ll be going to the gym so early that we’ll be done and leaving before the first, lazy pigments of sunlight weave morning.

I imagine my room looks like backstage at a new Broadway musical, the very first rehearsal - when nothing’s set in stone and everything’s a mess. My clothes are everywhere. Why did I decide to reorganize tonight? Brilliant.

Peter wants to come over but.. “No,” I say, sighing, overwhelmed. “Look,” I say, as I slowly pan the Facetime camera around the war zone that my room has become.

“Oh, my GOD,” he says, jerking back in horror, like a Californian seeing a fur-coat, “Was anyone HURT?!”

“Ha, Ha, I say, sarcastically, suddenly too tired, “Breakfast at 6:30?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, taking a tucked pencil from behind his right ear. “Guh-night,” he says.

“See-YA!” I say, pressing the red button and letting gravity guide my phone to a gentle rest atop the clothes-pile that’s concealing my bed.

Why are you afraid? Afraid of letting the world have your taste!
Zipped! Living in a bubble. No acquaintance with the world!
When did you lose the curiosity? It makes you alive

Your veil of ignorance makes you think they are monsters out to get to you
Look deep! Look deep!
The world is you & you are the world
It's a mirror reflecting back what's inside of you

Bring clarity! Bring clarity!
And tear away that veil
Look within, then look away
You may find yourself in a different being!

With a little patience, taking the time,
Writing a story that rhymes, then mixing in music,
A few people can create a song, thousands of people,
Without reading a verse, can sing along, with every line.
Everyone has a style they like, each generation, tweaks it,
Their way, the ones we enjoy, can pick up our energy,
During any slow day.
Music seems to have a direct route to our personal database,
We can live for years, without hearing, a certain song play,
As soon as we hear the first note, we start singing away,
Even moving our limbs, from playing air instruments to a crowd,
That sways!
Our society can learn to remember, many important things,
While having fun at the same time,
No one looked at it as work, or school, the first time,
We heard and sang, happy birthday, and the ABC song,
Now they are a perpetual fixture, memory in our minds.
As we age, many decide to stop listening to music,
And moving around, to a sit and stare, then sooner or later,
When you're talking, others are looking at each other,
Pointing at their head, he’s losing it up there.

handshake with the devil
and breakfast with angel
night turns to day, either way
I shall define the way I pray

I lost myself
Few years back.
Who am I now?
I can't identify?

I am a person
Who fears all the time
Who doesn't make art
Who doesn't write
Who hardly discovers new places
Or enjoys going out all alone.

Who am I?
Who have I become?
I was not this
Few years back?
I never liked being at one place
Liked going out every other day
With shine in my eyes
To explore and talk to new people.

Who have I become?
Completely quite
And dimmed!

Has this tough times
Changed me?
Is it only me?
Or has it changed everyone?
I can't feel me?
Who am I?
I can't relate to myself
Anymore!

How to find me?
Maybe I should start looking
For me...

Who is the captain, of our ship,
The engineer of this train,
The person in the director’s chair,
The ones that make the most gains?
Our vessel,  a round mass of dirt,
Rocks, the center full of fire,
Water and sand, knowing,
Our lives are limited reservations,
We never totally own our land.
The people should be happy,
It seems like old history,
Many welcomed strangers, to their town,
Introduce themselves, invite them for vittles,
A shot of moonshine, truly kind, not a plan,
To rob, or hurt them, they enjoyed company around.
Every generation, learns, from what they hear and see,
Those at the wheel, need to change direction, a different way,
Robots are we trying to eliminate ourselves, the future will it be.
By The Original Tom Maxwell © 1/30/2022 AD