Come on Baby, Light My Fire

In the final analysis, there
shall be no regret or remorse;
no spreadsheets, no checks and
balances. In the final
analysis there is only you
and your truths, the good ones
that light you up and the ones
that take you to darkness. In
the final analysis it will not
matter that you were loved

wrong or right, only that you
were loved. More importantly
that you loved with furor and
unflinchingly. And that you
danced with abandon. In the
final analysis your swagger
will only matter as much as
the sweat of your hard-working
brow. How much shit taking
was equaled by walking and

working. In the final analysis
how much you know will make
no difference. Your curiosity,
generosity and how openly you
taught, this is what will count.
What you did with what you
know, how you surprised
yourself, that's what I'm
talking about in the final
analysis. Were you kind, were

you gentle - this won't matter this
won't bear much weight in the
final analysis if none of it was real.
So here we sit, on American Independence
Day halfway through the second year of
the second decade of the 2000's and
in the final analysis the thing
that will be most stoking, most
inspiring, most excruciating is this:
have I lived, really lived?

In the final analysis, have I
embodied myself - the good,
the bad, the ugly of me with full
authority and furor? In the final
analysis the real question is am I on fire?
Does the life force of me burn
a steady flame, or spark bursts
of heat? When I speak, do I light up
inside and maybe  through the room?
Do my eyes gleam with ideas,

do my lips flicker with their words?
When I write, is the hand possessed
by pen kinetic? Do I sizzle?
Does my life stoke me? Tonight
cities will light up in fireworks
and cheer, but in the final
analysis and  in the spirit of real
talking, to be truly free requires
fire. So when the dust settles tonight
do it. Find your fire. And work it, baby.