The Why of Work

Off to work, so very early, in that special time and space that so few partake of and fewer still can thrill to – why is that?

And then at night, so late it has gotten, but I am still enraptured with more special time, in lieu of home to warmth of wife – why is that?

I am enjoying a potion so subtle that it is an acquired taste, but once acquired there is truly nothing like it. Like a very fine snifter of high octane liquor that it takes a true intrepid to have the temerity to taste, much less savor. I am blessed and my thrills are shown in the jig of my walk and the embracement of my smile

But looming is that pitiless three-letter word that quails my rapture and makes my enjoyment unsavory

Why….as I look through the darkened window….dark as night at both ends of the day…I ask

I long since have had more than “enough”

Am I at heart grasping, greedy, ungracious, rapacious, base of spirit and a soul unworthy of respect even from myself?

Or am I glorified personage who has crafted works that feed, inspire, serve, love and nurture many?

After but a moment of self-doubt, my courage returns and to the pitiless why I reply with strength: neither villain nor hero am I today, nor will I be tomorrow, nor was I yesterday

I just treasure the thrill of the hunt….

And is that just fine as long as I don’t trample the grass too much with the hoofs of my horse?