Mediocrity and Excellence

You can wake up to chase the day,

The way a man might chase his pay—

And feel no different when it’s done

Than when he rose to meet the sun.

Or you can rise with something more,

To plant a seed, to open a door—

To shape the world in ways that last,

Not just survive, but move the past.

You can wear clothes to hide your form,

To keep from cold, to feel the norm—

Or wear them like the fields in spring,

And make your walking something sing.

You can talk to ask, to state, to sell,

To say what must be said as well—

Or speak to find what lives between,

The thoughts we say and those we mean.

You can walk with your eyes ahead,

To where the road turns up or dead—

Or walk and notice grass and stone,

And feel that time is not your own.

You can eat to fill the need,

As horses graze or cattle feed—

Or eat as if the meal were grace,

A quiet thanks in every place.

You can breathe and not think twice,

As winter wind cuts through the ice—

Or breathe and know the breath is true,

A little life that lives in you.

You can listen just to speak again,

Or listen deep, like roots in rain—

And find a truth you hadn’t sought,

That came uncalled, but meant a lot.

You can read because the test is near,

Or read and find the forest clear—

Where words are trees and thought is air,

And learning’s not a weight to bear.

You can rest when limbs give way,

Or rest like woods at end of day—

Not from the strain, but for the peace,

Where even worry finds release.

You can work to check the box,

And earn the wage and turn the locks—

Or work as if the task were kind,

And leaves a mark not far behind.

You can look and judge with haste,

Or see a life you dare not waste—

A stranger’s face, a mirror still,

That shows you what you might fulfill.

You can spend your time to pass it fast,

Or build a fire that warms and lasts—

Where meaning doesn’t shout or shine,

But waits like stones beneath the pine.

You can love to dodge the night,

Or love to walk someone toward light—

Two shadows cast, but only one

When hearts decide they’re not yet done.

You can dream to leave the real,

Or dream to shape what you can feel—

And bring it here with hand and thought,

To make the world what dreams have taught.

You can help because it’s right,

Or help because it brings you light—

Like tending fields you’ll never see,

And knowing that’s enough to be.

You can watch the sky for signs of rain,

Or look and lose your sense of plain—

To feel a hush you can’t explain,

Where clouds remember joy and pain.

Yes, you can breathe and call it life.

But life begins beyond the strife—

When breath becomes the thing you give,

And every step is how you live.