Treading

*

*

Life is good even with the evil swirling around out there. I guess maybe that’s what makes it so worthwhile, it being good. Good is work, like diamond mining, you have got to dig for it. Evil is easy, it just spreads all over, common place as clouds. We aren't born anything, except who we are. And that will go according to what we did. Babies can be evil and hate can be a good thing. Listening to some really great music you can kind of get the rhythm for these kind of things. Over and over again. Nice is a good word. The English version of it just sort of short circuits it a bit though. Amable, simpatico, better in Spanish. Simpatico is something you can wrap around yourself and the world has beauty. Wandering along the coast line, seeing what the high tide pushed up and finding treasures. Warm winds and nights that glow. Soft sounds and coyotes howling, smelling the heat of the hills. You know it's there, evil. Reach out to it, remember what you learned, they are doing bad things. But not in my head, not in my back yard nor home, that’s freedom they aren't going to get from me. Free to be good and have it good and take what you want because what you want is good. It's the shame, the comparison. Good is so good, and evil is so evil and the two are for the taking. Harmony, chaos, corruption, balance. It hurts to rot. Sort of a deteriorating feeling, like life is no good anyway so you might as well. You jump in and don't worry about how to stay afloat, your drowning anyway. They are out there killing, right now, sending their armies out, doing it. Those they kill, they die as I think of beauty and good things. Look at the colors on a peacock, he has twelve different types of feathers to adorn him, why is he so beautiful? Life is good, there's the island out front, drifting in the mist, a swell breaking on the south side, no one lives there just goats running free and happy. I wonder if they know about me. Least we forget, while we wait for our doom, life is very very good, so much beauty, so much awe. It feels so good to be alive, like some rare privilege. Chill nibbling at my warmth, but can never penetrate the core. More beauty than one can fathom, amid all this disaster and tragedy, mine to make my life good while the world suffers. The good life, living good, so good. Why do they do all this evil? They don't need to, it would roll right along without it.