The habits of the man, drinks with all sorts, doesn’t do all the rituals, eats strange foods, sits down with those unlike him, has no time for titles, and tries to give us advice, as for the women in his life, he treats them like equals, what’s going on they ask. The painter at the side of the curb, his talent, well, look what he did with it, he stumbles across the street, while many say, if only I could paint like him, so the comments go, what a waste.
Jesus is reading Isaiah, the story of the great turn around, how the most silliest day in the life of the Almighty is greater than the wisdom of all the sages put together, what you ask. Solomon sighs, the wonder of creation, and while we are looking, what do we do with the waste?
The mother struggles in the heat, the bags are full, sweat runs down her face, she is nearly home, once in the door, it’s all work, not before she has a comforting cup of tea. The preparation is continuous, her job is never fulfilled, she works all her life, had the looks to chose, she chose family instead, was it such a waste?.
I can send a rocket to the moon, i can do mars says another, the boy beside them looks out at the sea, can anyone of you clean that up, they shrug their shoulders, the boy thinks, they look up but never see what is around them, what a waste he thinks!.
paddypicasso 