Superstitious Days

It's a poem about the observance of days and seasons.

Why make such a big deal of birthdays?

You're happy to be alive every day.

 

Christmas Day and New Year’s Day aren’t special days,

And neither is Independence Day.

 

Contrary to what some people claim,

No day is better than other days.

 

We have Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, et cetera.

Can I ask what the difference is?

 

Payday, heyday, or Memorial Day,

Whatever day comes, it won’t stay.

 

You can call a day what you may,

Sad to say it’s just another one of those rough days.

 

When Friday falls on the 13^th of a month,

Some people think it’s a sign of bad luck.

 

In April, they call it Good Friday,

But don’t follow what false teachers relay.

 

Easter is in fact a pagan holiday.

The source of information conveys hearsay.

 

Fools invented the observance of months and days,

And this has led many people astray.

 

Blind minds celebrate what they don't know.

Should we believe in superstitious days?

 

The truth will come out, without a doubt,

No matter how loud empty barrels shout.

 

Many people derive joy from All Fools' Day.

I don’t observe specific days and seasons.

 

On the days that I kneel to pray,

I think of important things to say.

 

There’s no peculiar night or day.

Good things and bad things come our way.

 

Sunny days, rainy days, any day,

I appreciate every day that I wake up and see.

 

I’m thankful for not only one day.

So I never use the cliché, "Thank God it’s Friday."

 

Yesterday, today, tomorrow,

Which one is the most important day?

Author's Note

No day is special.