No, The Grapes Aren't Sour

'The grapes are probably sour, anyway,' said Aesop's immortal fox.

When your dreams drift completely out of reach, the temptation is to dismiss and devalue them.

And sure, maybe they were vain and self-serving, but you know...probably not. Like those grapes.

They were probably pretty worthwhile.

Some people will tell you, 'let it go'. Great advice, but it's not that easy.

You have to say goodbye, with love and longing.

A shibboleth I'd like to shatter

is that all those things what never was

did not, do not really matter,

'cause they really did, and does.

And you have to reach that point;

on this, I must be sadly clear

that it's no good to light a joint

and down another case of beer,

for chickens will come home to roost

in the corner of your mind,

and no escape lies in 'confused',

and no relief in being blind.

Face the monsters, now, of sorrow,

'cause they'll only grow until tomorrow.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is CONSUME. Eat this!

The fox could not consume the grapes

for they were much too high,

suited better for great apes,

and jumpers such as I.

Now we all know white men can't jump,

but I'm not white, you see,

and you really should not lump

white folks in with Chinese me,

who can leap unto the stars

on legs of banded steel,

trained well upon the monkey bars

and thus can make a meal

of the grapes upon the vine,

and I won't share, they're mine, all mine!

Oh, very well, fox. Here ya go.

Four minutes.

Music from Jackson Dean, Don't Come Lookin'

Sylvia WILL come lookin'.