Alternatives to Therapy Part 3

Imagine a world where all that exists
is what you have crafted
your own universe
shaped by your two bony hands

Your opinions and critiques
are nothing more than breeze
and the rivers and streams
are only in your dreams

Would there be jazz?
Would there be flowers and seeds?
Would there be buildings built?
Would you have what you need?

Would there be more laughter than tears?
Would there be more hopes or fears?
Would there be gardens and the scent
of fresh rosemary focaccia bread?

A world where what you have made
is the only currency you are paid
All those hours in the shade
Left you so little to trade

Sometimes I look back
and see all my receipts
realize I’ve been spent too much of life
on the cheapest of seats
When what I want is great wealth
not in stocks or bonds
but in happiness and pleasure and health

But great hypocrite am I
for wasting all this time
passively idling by
while the woman in my mind’s eye
collects her natural dyes

I’ve traveled so many miles
in search of transcendence
while the woman long past smiles
as she lessens her dependence
with each season’s harvest
and still has plenty to share
at Wednesday’s farmer’s market