You who sit in silence

Who cannot slice your words

Who wince at joy and hide

Black crumbs of hurt inside

Who moan the dingy portents

Who sing the mournful lay

Who cry white cotton tears for

Knights to turn your way

To slay the vine that holds you

To free your shrunken heart

To make the scales fall from your eyes

To take the wind out of your sighs

To prime the hope of some new start

To pick the best of morning dew

To straighten up the frame

Someone to call your name

Get up and go do something. Shake it off. At least go outside for a few minutes. But if you want to change things, go out there and help somebody else. Too many people sit and dream about things, fueled by watching movies and TV—I wish I could say by reading books, but you’re too lazy for that. Reading takes moving your eyes across the lines, down to the next line, over to the end, back and down, over, back and down; but more than that it takes a mental exercise that watching TV doesn’t. TV watching you just stare at the strike zone, and you don’t have to process words into visuals in your imagination. No o- o- . That would be effort. Don’t want to do that.

So break away. Snap the flimsy cords that bind you down to inactivity, and get up. At least go outside. But more than that, go help somebody. I mean, it just infuriates me. You know?