Luck, by Charles Carreon
Waiting for the impulse,
The real move,
Is so hard ...
You know what you want to do
You know what you have to do,
But to actually feel like
You and the doing are now
One at point "A" is something
Else again.
So, no genuineness,
No spontaneity,
No taste of pure impulse
On your tongue.
Instead, the bland flavor
of obligation fulfilled,
The comfort of avoiding risk,
The pat on the head
From the familiar God.
Today, a cascade of energy
Will radiate from the sun,
And just as it happens,
A drop of it will bless
The earth.
So faithful and regular,
The sun has no sense of duty.