• Brian M Winningham

Marrow and Meat

Marrow and meat, breath and blood.

Muscle and bone, soul and sinew.

We were formed out of the fetid, stinking mud,

And a spark that still shines deep within you.


Sliding through your days both numb and asleep.

Afraid to wake-up and compose your life’s music.

Until finally all that’s left to you is plumbing the deep,

So, you muster up all your courage and decisively use it.


Changing everything is as simple as changing your habits.

A new perspective, practiced daily, will ultimately catch hold,

It’s work, not magic, (though it’s simpler to pull hats from rabbits)

But take notice how your heart no longer beats timidly, but bold.


You begin to arrive inside your own precious life,

Leaving the immutable past inevitably in your wake,

Facing the future and its persistently impenetrable price,

While gaining the closest friend, you could ever hope to make.


Each life has false-starts, and failures, and inglorious defeats,

None lives absent affliction, and trauma, and heartrending loss.

Don’t let that pain define you, nor knock you off of your feet.

Breath! Release! Become! Knowing you were never really lost.

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