Sum wear
Long the weigh
Countless souls
Lost
Their sense of humor
Only too end up
Way to Sirius
Occupying that eternal box
Under the counter
Only willing
To pass it long
To whom sow ever
Claims it for their owin’
And consider it
Awe the more
Than mirror junk
And that unmatched
Like a kid smitten
With another helping
Bringing it awe back
To the whirled of the living
This poem was inspired by a couple of occasions where others had spoken about how they had lost their sense of humor and I thanked them, because I had found it. I find humor nearly everywhere. Life is endlessly intriguing, stubbornly surreal, and surprisingly funny. Many may look at my life and might consider it a perfect storm of their worst scenarios. Nonetheless, I often feel like a kid smitten with that unmatched experience of finding joys in what others consider unwanted junk in the lost and found box. Valuing what others consider trivial or worth avoiding can be vexing at times, yet there is an expansive freedom in not chasing after and competing for the same stuff most everybody else is. Some days I feel as though I am literally living in a different world; yet, I sense that I deeply see our shared reality, replete with pain and suffering, countless contradictions, and despair, just as abounding with joy and serendipities, poetic beauty, and profound hope. I find that humor abounds amidst odd juxtapositions, playful exaggerations, and a rich appreciation for the possible. I often use humor to see past cynicism and fixations on the ugliness in life. Sometimes this may strike overly serious folks as grasping for baubles, but value is largely in the eye of the beholder; and if conventional views snare despair, then it may just be time to discard such views. Humor may not be everything, but humor can be found nearly anywhere. If you have lost your sense of humor, I’ll keep an eye out for it. Trust me, I’ll give it back to you if I find it.