Clash

Original date: somewhere between Aug 29 and Sep 6 of 2013.

a realist and a dreamer

are standing face-to-face

and I beside the both of them

as they decide my fate.

my heartbeat pounds the ancient drum

as each draws her sword of choice

the realist commands her money,

the dreamer wields her voice.

Ben Franklin taunts the spritely one

as her finances fall apart

"what have you now?" -- the dreamer's response,

"for you have lost your heart!

you have all you could ever buy

and you're happy, you contend,

but as years of work became your means,

so loneliness your end.

you hardly eat, you barely sleep;

your life's become a chore

perfunctory, impersonal,

you aren't who you were before,

when the world hadn't chewed you up

and spat you out like mud,

before the smile left your eyes

and life abandoned your blood."

"And what have you?!" the money asks,

"no place to set your feet!

you're a wild, unruly child

who must accept defeat.

you think a lot? well good for you!

let's all give you applause.

but all my wealth gives me my health

and nothing gives me pause."

"Busy, busy, aren't you now?"

the dreamer whispers sadly.

"You pause not, for you won't feel,

and I'm sure you miss it badly.

you spend quiet nights alone

and tell yourself you're fine,

but all the joy has left you now,

your happiness now mine."

 

As bravely as the dreamer fought,

as noble was her cause,

the world came and swept her up

and broke her in its jaws.