How much of our lives are just a matter of timing?

Are we planted in fertile soil
Where we can grow,
Deep Roots.
Grow Strong.
Prosper to plant
seedlings of our own.

Or do the winds of history and time
Blow the seed off course
To the dry parched land of
War and Famine.

what sperm reaches out to touch egg first
Depolarizing deep in our mother’s womb
At exactly the right moment 
When she is ready to receive it.

Implants.
Grows.
Survives.

What are those odds?

A matter of timing and survival.

We are all evidence of miracles
Walking about this precarious place
But a moment.




I’m just gonna throw this little bootleg from a concert last summer up. Just cause I want to share it and this is the easiest way.