If I had it my way I would be a painter; a painter who had just bathed in color and then taken to a stage to dance against a background of white, having a dialogue with the music, finding out what it is the sound was searching for and figuring out whether my soul was searching for the same thing.
If I had it my way, I would be a poet; a poet whose blood was his ink and whose feelings were crying to be freed from his mortal body and who, driven by this desire for freedom, was dancing in the minds of those who beheld him so that the blood would course through his veins and scream silently till the need for freedom and the lamentable lack of it was so apparent that the beholder would never forget the poem.
If I had it my way, I would be a runner; a runner running wild and free, hair flowing behind him, the whole body leaning ever so slightly forward, arms, legs, and body one in a rhythm so poetic that the animals would witness and recognize the dance that had been created by the Creator; the dance that is understood only by those who dance this Dance of the Eternally United Soul – the dance of the animal born free.
If I had it my way, I would be a leaf on a sapling standing six inches tall; a leaf just old enough to flutter in the wind and giggle with glee as the kiss of the Creator tickled its being, and young enough to dance without a care that it was but a tiny, unspectacular speck on a small struggling sapling which was far from being a mighty tree that might withstand the forces of the world.
If I had it my way, I would be a dancer; I would dance every which way, in every which season, in any which memory, to any which music, just to let the world know that I was alive and that I knew what it meant to be alive.
If I had it my way, I would be a farmer; I would till the land till it blossomed to accept the offering of seeds and then nurtured them into crops so that I could feed the hungry who are forever waiting for government help to reach below the poverty line.
If I had it my way, I would be a teacher; a teacher who observes and learns from the children who by their joyful abandon remind us that we have conditioned ourselves not to feel, not to react when we feel and, if we feel and react, not to come out of the walls that society has taught us to build around ourselves.
If I had it my way, I would be the conscience; the conscience that is missing in the mental make-up of so many people who don’t know when to criticise, when to argue, and when to follow so that decisions taken by leaders on behalf of millions can go to fruition, and as a result they become one of the reasons why those decisions end up adversely affecting many more millions.
Good Morning World. But I don’t have it my way and so I am going to try to at least be my own conscience. I figure if I can do that, I can do everything else.