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THE MUD OF LIFE

April 11, 2011   •   By Dave

Posted under: Mind, Spirit

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As I ride to work on the bus
Watching the people of the city
I see many who are in a rush
And some just standing, looking pretty

I marvel at the variety
And count the stories that could be told
By the spread of this humanity
From young & bold to broken & old

As I watch, I’m feeling all alone
And I wonder why I’m so tired
To the very brink I feel I’ve grown
In the mud of life, I’ve become mired

In the mud of life, up to the neck
The tales of my days buried below
Most cards have now been dealt from the deck
The hands we hold are all we will know

The mud of life has me so confined
Maybe later I’ll pull a hand free
But for now, how the mud does bind
And keeps such a tight hold on me

I have lived my life as if by rote
Dotted each ‘I’ and crossed every ‘T’
But now I look at the tale I wrote
And realize that it’s not really me

So I sit here on the city bus
With the mud of life all around me
Obscuring  any love, joy or lust
And draining all of my energy


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About the Author: Dave


Dave has been a life-long computer professional, and has been online since before the Internet. His websites include http://desautel.net and http://boomer-blog.com. He recently published his first book of poetry entitled My Life in a Poem - Volume I.


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