Thankfully, I am not the master of my fate, nor am I the captain of my soul.
“But I can be good enough!”
This was the cry which had echoed out so many times before, the anthem of the timeless and oh-so-futile struggle that every human fights. The sum of all mortal hopes, dreams, and delusions gathered into one statement. Man has always fought against his helplessness. There is always a battle when the eternal fate of his soul is brought forth for scrutiny. He is convinced, in his mind, of his ability to survive. The Earth is his plaything, sickness is but an inconvenience, and the animals exist for naught but to be controlled. He is his own master. Why should he not be able to control his place in the afterlife? God is but an idea, an ideological crutch on which to lean. Only the weak need to acknowledge Him; that’s what the strong tell themselves.
“I can be good enough!” Always in the future, ever a possibility, never an I am, that’s for the shallow. There’s always one more thing. There are always improvements to be made. Perfection is always just ahead. I. Can. Be.
Like the constant attempts of the mosquito to survive, the finger plugging the dam, or the roadkill which once tried to traverse the highways without a vehicle, so is man. On its own, the finite can never become infinite. The infinite can never be completely reduced to the definable. Collect, pile, multiply, and repeat, the infinite is never within grasp. There will always be an amount, no matter how large the number. Infinite is not a human term. It can be, but it never will. The theoretical has no bearing on the divine. Possibilities will not pass for constants. Can be will never pass for I am. I have been, can be, might, was, or could—none of these will suffice.
Without a piece of the infinite, the finite is but a mere dot on a scale—easily obtainable and even more easily surpassable. It is when the infinite comes down, takes on the burdens on the finite, and provides a portal through which both can pass, that the finite is saved.
“No, you can’t,” came the response, “but I can.”
I do not like a long work day
I do not like it, even the pay
I do not like to get up early
For that, I’m afraid, makes me surly
I cannot stand an early alarm
They do no good, only harm
And I do not like to leave my bed
It makes me sad and hurts my head
The moral here, if I’m not crazy,
Is that I’m tired, worn, and lazy
But that’s okay, and I’m alright,
Because I get to sleep tonight!
Some people don’t
Some people can’t
Some people don’t even get the chance.
So I’ll stop complaining, ‘cause when it’s raining
I’m not worrying, stressing or straining.
I have a roof, and I have a bed
I have a job, no shortage of bread
I’m content, but should I be?
I’m not sure. Don’t ask me.
So, I got a Mac a while back, and something I’ve always wanted to do was create a song in Garageband. I’ve never played any instruments other than the trumpet and trombone, and neither of those lend well to digital music.
Garageband has a huge library of loops. I started to play with different combinations, and I finally decided on the words I wanted to use. So, without any further ado, I give you The Raven (rap).
Yep. That’s that.
Please excuse the mis-pronunciation of “quaff” and “beak.” If I ever re-record it, I’ll fix my gaffs.