Man is the only animal smart enough
To search for the meaning of life
And the only one dumb enough
Not to see it right in front of him
We spend our days searching for the sunshine
Inside our little houses
While the sun blares down
Upon our too-sturdy roofs
We spend so much time
Making a living
That we forget to
Make a life
I remember the story about the artist
Who spent every waking hour consumed with his craft
He wanted to make the ultimate gift for his son
To show how much he loved him.
He was so obsessed, he ended up spending no time with him
His son died
The painting was burned up in a fire
And he was left to wonder why
He didn't simply just say "I Love You"?
Why do we complicate everything?
Nothing stops us in life more than our own self-doubt.
I remember this part of a poem:
"So, the deadliest of men is not he with a gun,
But the one who tells you "It can't be done!"
For that taken by burglars can be gotten again.
But, what can replace your will to win?"
Sometimes, the thing that stops us is the well-meaning (or not so well-meaning)
And sometimes it is he who is in the mirror
That is both our greatest asset
And our greatest enemy.
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