Control

What is this thing we call control?
Why do we allow it to rule our soul?
Who keeps teaching us that that's the way to be
When control's destructive effects are all we see?

How can we learn to terminate brutal power. . .
And start perceiving life as a beautiful flower. . .
Growing, fragile yet strong, through the winds of time
Here blooming with endurance. . .there gone within a chime

When will we understand that we are merely leaves. . .
Flying where the wind takes us. . .through happiness and grieves
Making the best of a journey- as fickle as can be
Observing our ups and downs with a vision close to glee

How hard is it anyway to be in awe of the universe
And remember the simple truth of our disperse
To honor every experience- in spite of shape or size
Respecting each outcome, unloading every dice

Oh yes, it's not an easy task to face our triviality
In fact it's even harder than accepting our simplicity
But once we become aware that control only enslaves
We can live fully. . .and enjoy every step up till our graves.

Joan Marques

Copyright 2002 Joan Marques