Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Why can't I

I know a man of 80 who biked from one ocean to the other.
He pedaled up steep mountain grades, mile after mile.
He pedaled into winds strong enough to make trees sway.
He pedaled when the pelting rain lashed his cheeks and nearly took his sight away.
He pedaled when the summer sun shimmered on the desert and parched his tongue.
He pedaled when the rising sun painted the sky in
He pedaled, all the way, from coast to coast.
Why can't I?

I know a man who learned to carve in his retirement.
Birds at first, and horses.
But later, with finer tools and more creative skill, a Beethoven bust.
And Mozart playing the violin, and a whole nativity set....
Each so finely detail-crafted that it takes your breath away.
Why can't I?

I know a man who writes three books at once.
Words keep gushing from the deep wells of imagination.
No parching droughts or lengthy rewrites.
Award-winning, compelling reading--all of them.
Why can't I?

Well, yes, at last I have a book.
But it's a "different" book.
Talking with God it's called.
It seems that Enoch did that easily.
And so did Tevya.
Why can't I?

Someone said, "Be perfect."
Why can't I?
Because my wife would have none of it?
Maybe.
Because we know of only one who could?
I think so, yes.

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