werk.

to the subtle realization at the

first sign of light breaking through the blinds

that there is worthwhile work to be done.

to the impetus signified by the sighing of birds

that time awaits,

to the peace found in the rounds of feet

shuffling through subway stalls

and the canon of tracks on rails

as the LEDs inform the next manhattan bound L train

in 8, 6, 4, 2, minutes, has arrived.

to the 9 to 12

and 1-3

and 6-8

and 5, 6, 7, 8!

rather than the nine to five

to choosing to bring work home with you

out of dedication rather than obligation

to the work that supports the work

to making it to work

to making it work

to making others laugh, cry, think,

but most of all

to inspiring others to act

to being instead of doing

to doing instead of watching

to watching instead of nothing

to persisting through the perspiration

the letting of blood

the harvesting of tears

the renaissance of souls

to belief, and faith,

and knowing that you are making your parents proud

even though there's no stethoscope around your neck

no programmer's hunch in your shoulders

no hearing for you to attend to in the morning.

to knowing that there's just nothing else like it

so that when the final blackout falls

and the stage is lit only by ghost light

and shadows

you will have committed a part of your life

to the art of living

to breathing in the moment

to being present.