Shhhh…
Can you hear the earth’s sound
Groaning,
Straining,
Waiting with eager anticipation for the revealing of the day…

Most twenty four hours periods of my life seem sectioned into some
sort of measurable standard units,
Like the quantity of BTU’s kindled by my stomach’s digestion of food,
The plentitude of my mouth’s utterance of the word, “Dude,”
Or the number of rude, bird-like, middle-finger gestures I receive
driving on the highway,
Which usually ends up being about two depending on such factors as
Stupid drivers who can’t make up their minds, forcing me to do it for
them,
How much I rev my sports car engine as I zoom past
Or the amount of blasting testosterone surging its way into the gas
pedal under my right foot.
In fact, I’ve found that I can influence the way that others respond to
my driving,
And sometimes I have to admit that I tick people off just for grins,
But the road is only the beginning­ of my ability to predict your
response to me,
When I speak, I can tell you with almost complete certainty how you’ll
feel.
For example, I can make Matthew John Conley mad at me
Just by telling him that his teeth are as straight as a gay pride rally,
Or dyslexic spelling bee, or something like that,
Or if I want to make Matthew smile,
I’ll tell him that every time I see him it makes me happier than a dog
with two peters.
Oh, and everyone will be scratching their heads with confusion if I say
that an Epson door jim jam shelf jorrifies crickets and carpenter
rafters,
But if I want to act like the kind of person the world is waiting for me
to be,
I’ll forget about me, give up my pride and tell you not to settle for
anything less than your dreams
Because I’m for you and believe in you and love…
Love messes us all up, if it’s really real,
Overturning heavy hearts,
Transforming weakness into confidence and vulnerability at the same
moment,
Constantly crashing through our souls with unpredictable kindness,
Lingering reminders of delight
And temporary blindness over the eyes of our greed and selfishness.
Yes, wouldn’t it be just spiffy if we all were giving a little love.
I mean, what the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s just that there’s something that keeps me from doing what no one
has to tell me is right,
Even when I can predict the destruction and death my actions will
cause.
Sometimes I do it anyway,
And the clouds in my eyes turn dark and gray,
Releasing their rain of tears
‘Cause I can’t escape, make my crooked heart straight,
Eradicate the practice of what I loathe and hate,
I can’t wait to see the approach of a different day,
When winter’s gray is replaced by the erupting colored bloom of
springtime flowers,
Showers of joy at the washing of broken, past wounds with the
medicine of forgiveness.
All the earth groans with anticipation eager to witness the dawn of our
final revealing,
Uncovering who we really want to be, the sculptured beauty that pulses
inside,
Tombs and graves cracked open wide,
The joy of a tsunami tide reaching into every cave or bedroom where
we’ve tried to hide,
And outside under the watchful course of the hopeful moon shining
down,
If you listen, you can hear the sound.