Not that I quit trying, or others cease being themselves, or still others (most blindly) still follow the leader. We all have our quirks, mine is relentless pursuit of, well, whatever I’m relentlessly pursuing at that time. My stop button broke a long time ago, so now my motor runs until it gets low on energy or depressed. At that time, like it or not, it is time to recharge. I get silent and I do not want to be bothered by people who won’t let me be. You know those folks who say, “wow glad you slowed down, just in time to run me to Walmart while you’re not doing anything. I’d drive myself but I’m out of gas and money. You are always working; I know you’ve got a full tank.” Yes, I do, I put it there for me and my dreams to play on. Dancing to life’s song is never free, and there’s a drum sounding for you in whatever fashion you have chosen; listen and live with it. After all, you bought into the song, dance to your hearts content.

THEY’RE NOT DANCING TO MY SONG

Ants move under grasses, birds flying in the sky’

Most directed by others, all dying to try.

Days pile on each other, it wearies each muscle,

Sometimes one pauses, most continue to hustle.

Running in circles, never quite reaching the end,

Even “tireless” have moments, eyes search for a friend.

Though steps choreographed, oft feel “do not belong.”

Most cannot understand, “don’t dance to the same song.”

Some good with ‘slow movement;’ not the way I was built,

Too much time ‘relaxing’ guaranteed to feel guilt.

Others own “free and simple” claim only the moon,

Think hard work is crazy, none “two-step” to my tune.

My quiet has no import, men march past uncaring,

Silence means so little, it’s not my heart they’re wearing.

The whole show goes on daily, but “Tango” never free,

Immunity hopeless, hustlers will not let you be.

Same in the big cities, those high rises and cars,

Then out to the country, open range, country bars.

All move to a drummer, and not one of them wrong,

Each step so distinctive, but none “dance” to my song.