Several times, from the good place that my life has pitched up home, I've experienced what others felt, when I was the man digging a hole. It's a thankless task. It's so true, that only an individual can only find their truth. Sometimes it's in redemption, other times in destruction. It's much, much better in redemption, though. Take it from me.
Digging a Hole:
I'm watching a man digging a hole
and there's nothing I can do to stop him.
So now I wait, ever so patiently,
for the big hole, to swallow him up.
I watch him drive himself slowly mad,
as he tirelessly and recklessly competes,
to dig a hole bigger than the next man.
But there is no next man, he's all alone.
I watch desperate displays of affection, hanging
because the man's heart lies elsewhere.
Elsewhere in excitement, anticipation and danger,
that override reality, the comfort of home and family.
I watch his world already damaged, implode.
Wise words of his peers, confined to history.
Wisdom that floated away, through to the distant past.
Those once close, drift off and stare from afar.
We watch, dismayed at the sadness of it all.
'The man always had his ways', we could say
and the man knows that soon the end will come.
Yet he increases the pace, as he digs his hole.
© Paul David Hogan 2012