“FIDDLING AROUND.” a poem for: Thursday, Thanksgiving Day a.k.a.: “The Only Thing To Be Truly Thankful For Is LOVE, So Be Sure To Send Some To President Trumps So, Maybe, He Will Decide To Be Nice And Start Doing All The Best Things For All The People Deep Down That He Really Loves, OK?” Nov. 28, 2019
The condition of THIS human; it’s all I see,
Is WEAKNESS and FRAILTY NO STRENGTH for me.
IF there is ANY strength, it is found in THE CONVICTION,
Of recognizing weakness and making THIS prediction:
“Since I’m SO WEAK, unsure and sad,
And, since holding onto YOU takes away (all) the bad,
PERHAPS, ‘together” we might be able JUST A LITTLE,
To stroll through this life playing some fiddle.”
YOU HOLD THE INSTRUMENT; I’LL HOLD THE BOW.
I’ll play your strings, and we will know,
That NEITHER a violin OR a bow does much,
But FINE MUSIC HAPPENS WHEN THEY TOUCH.
So, although you sometimes say (that) I’m STRONG,
I am weak; without you, I can’t get along,
But TOGETHER WOULD BE NICE; beautiful music we’ll play,
And WITH MUSIC AT OUR ALTAR, let us (in weakness) kneel and pray,
And play “the strongest element” that we possibly can,
A beautiful violin and her quivering, bowing man.