Stop looking and living For the “Big Things.” The vacations, the weddings, The holidays, the new babies Are good and lovely, No denying! Exciting And fleeting.

Stop pining, start thinking! What are you missing? The moments are ticking Away while you’re dreaming About those “Big Things” That leave you still wishing. Quick beauty Of high degree.

Start thinking and using The seconds you’re losing! The slapstick, the melodies, The wonders, the creature-play, Equally lovely, Exciting And fleeting.

Start learning and laughing With the “Little Things” Which are the Big Things truly. Every single moment passing, Fast as childhoods, birthdays, Christmases, weddings. Every moment lovely, Wonder-inducing, Fleeting.

Flowing From beauty Of Highest degree.

Days, weeks, months on this road Riddled with stones, dust, and holes, I sometimes doubt this loss of control Over the surroundings I behold Was worthy price for the loss of my load. What ill might this wasteland bode?

“Remember in the olden days When hour by hour we could gaze On wild flowers all ablaze With beauty gathered from star-rays? But now we stumble hot and dazed Where beauty long ago was razed.”

Thus shamelessly claims my old heart Which had it’s death-blow at the start, Lashing out with thoughts that smart. Sharp words are this old stone’s fine art. Wiser is it’s living counterpart.

My new heart will not fully bend! Warmth and cheer cannot descend, Cold counterpart’s complaints commend. It calls to me small flames to tend: “Some ease must come, without an end.

“If ease or none while traveling find, Hold this road’s end ever in mind.”

Brian moans and slaps at his smart phone, squeezing the button that mutes his alarm. He’d had a restless night punctuated by dreams he can’t remember. “Still three more days till the weekend,” he groans to himself as he pulls on his jeans and shuffles sullenly to the bathroom.

Robbie silences his alarm and gazes blearily at the screen of his smart phone. Last night’s thunderstorm had woken him several times. The numbers 6:38 swim into focus. “Crud!” he thinks, “I must have snoozed it without waking up all the way!” And then he adds, “Interesting talent. But probably not one I want to develop,” with an irresistible smile. That bit of hilarity clears the fog from his brain like fall sunshine on a misty lake. He hums to himself as he steps into the shower. “Hump day. It’s all downhill from here,” he thinks.

[The plan is to continue like this, comparing the responses of each young man to his experiences, possibly through the rest of the week.]