The gun goes off and you run as fast as you can for as long as you can.
They give you the ball and you crash into whomever or whatever happens to get in your way.
The pitcher made the mistake of being a little too high and tight with the last pitch. You get back up, and on the next pitch you stand in there with as much reckless abandon as God might allow and you swing as hard as you can, from the heels as they like to say.
The question is: Why A, B, or C?
You, yours, you’ve.
You were from birth, through childhood, and on and on forever and ever until death do you part from whatever it is we part from.
The charge of what you have to offer to any and all, never fearing the consequences of what may or may not happen.
Born with a middle gear missing.
While some can slow long enough to taste and remember,
I, of course, without choice.
No middle gear to slow the process.
None either to break down at an untimely moment.
Timely or untimely,
No thought about there being a difference between the two suppositions.
What I knew to be true was the sound of the gun going off, the excitement of being in first place, if only for a moment. But in that moment, they viewed my back, and I not theirs. Those with a middle gear could not share my experience.
Behind that larger than life teammate, the ball clutched with a strength equal to one’s last chance to survive. Suddenly, you move aloft as never before equaled, as over the goal line you dive. There is then a solitary moment, which will remain only yours, you’ve flown by those with a middle gear. You will always know what it feels like to be alive.
The boy got up from the ground, swung his bat a few times dug his spikes back to exactly where they were before he went down.
And then the ultimate pitch came his way.
A crack of the bat, his moment to hear them scream; No middle gears that day, only all out living of a young man’s dream.
Suggested from an idea inspired by
The actresses there to see me.
Kathy, Annie, and Jill
Monday, October 25, 2010
Three women there to see me!