Monday, October 09, 2006

Our Thing, a poem of sorts.

We are the eternal underdog; the long shot; the risky bet.
This thing e do, we do not for the glory; not for the gain; not for the win.
We do this thing because we need this thing.
It runs in ourveins and it speaks to our souls; it moves us.

This thing is not comfortable. This thing is not safe.
Nothing here is the same today as it was yesterday, as it will be tomorrow.
This is the way we like our thing.

Smite rounting, for this is the enemy of evolution.
Reject fear, for this is the emeny of creativity.

Take notice. see all. Think. Listen. Act. Learn. GROW.

Fat Cats nap.
underdogs plot.

underdogs run faster; push harder; think smarter.
They snatch the Fat Cat's feast from under their face.

While they are sleeping, we are scavengering.
While they are gloating, we are starving.

For our feast, we will never stop.
For our thing, we will persevere.

- the Children.


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