Ldy, the lemony, ligerish ducttaparian's Magic Treehouse of Lost Thoughts

But I cannot bear this shallow breathing.

There was going to be a poem here, but I forgot the rest.

I want to sleep... but I've phone calls to make for the murder mystery.

Perhaps I'll write more here when I'm done with those.

Can I sing right now? Probably not. I'll put that call off for a little bit.

Cryptic, or merely nonsensical? An exercise best left to the reader.

Where the heck is mousie? I've lost an oar, would trade for an ear.

Addendum: One phone call down. There may not be a murder mystery Thursday. And the reschedule date is during the week I'm in Florida. I get paid either way, but I'll be blue if we don't do this. Actually, I'm just blue.

Time is so very precious.
We think it's disposable because that is our purpose.
We think it's commonplace because it is ubiquitous.
We think there will always be more, knowing full well our share is limited.

Before you empty your ocean a drop at a time...

Are you happy?
Are you drinking deeply of this cup of life?
Are you frittering it away?
Are you taking it for granted?
Are you giving what you have?
Are you sharing what you know?
Are you taking as well as you give?
Are you acknowledging your own power?
Are you dancing or waiting for an invitation?
Are you questioning all you see, hear and feel?
Are you brightening the way or casting shadows?
Are you trading your future for small comfortable fears?
Are you cultivating friendships and watching them grow?
Are you leaving this place better or worse than you found it?
Are you eating drinking loving laughing crying fucking sharing growing caring creating
and fighting for your future with all your heart and soul and sweat?

Are you living?

...or just waiting?

Drip. Drip. Drip.