November 2nd: 2nd Day in the month of Thanks

I'm thankful for the spoken word, for the lyrics and the rhymes, for the poetry of the classics and the poetry of the contemporaries.

I'm thankful for every English teacher that pushed me harder and higher and farther - closer to the personal ephiphanous poetic Nirvana.

I'm thankful for the pen and the blue and black ink and the little notebooks and the editor's red pen.

I'm thankful for the personal trial, the personal journey through self-made heavens and self-made hells and self-made ERs.

I'm thankful for these because I know that with these I will make my mark on the world so then I can stand on the lonely single tree'd hill and look down and say,

"Yes. I was there."

I will sit against the tree and look down and smile and laugh as the ant-peoples pass by, with the young rejects and she-jects and the beautiful-mirror-girls and the bullied and the perfection-in-the-rough mixed in, bleeding their own blue and black ink-blood out of their creative personal veins, until they come to their own single tree'd hills, and smile down and say in their choir of personal 50 shades of humanity,

"Yes. I was there."