There is a element of our work
That waits for the future to happen-
A rested posture that acknowledges
The unexpected nature of reality;
Deeply longing for what could be
Yet making peace with life as it is.
And then there is a stance of the soul
That is poised to the knowledge that today isn’t all there is-
An expectant crouch
An eager pulse
And an acute awareness
That these hands can do so much more
Than just receive:
We are curators of our cultures
Matadors of the menaces of our times
Architects of the human experience.
Ours is to do the work that today demands:
Staying afloat
Enduring hardships
Savoring delights.
But the story goes on-
Our work is also to spend our days
With our hearts in our hands
And our heads in the clouds
Beckoning the world to come.
On making the future possible
heartinscriber 