OLD FRIEND

Your Own Best Friend

By Lisa Eva Gold

My dad would be proud. I won't say this too loud. No one wants to be told, "I told you so," because you need to stay bold.

Unbeknownst to man, time is in demand. We live by a clock that doesn't stop. We refine our agenda; we don't surrender.

Once upon a time, there was a space in a place that left lines of happiness upon my face. It was youth that saw me through. I believed in myself because you did, too. A beacon of light, that I looked up too.

Can I tell you a secret? There is a secret place inside. No one can get in. Only you reside. There are certain people who leave a mark. Yet we sit on the bleachers looking out. When in fact you are your greatest teacher.

I remember who I was back then. I was more of a friend. Dad reminded me, "You'll always be your own best friend." There are cracks in the aerosphere. That's how the light gets in, my dear.

You are that small voice that no one else can hear. It will always guide you. No need to fear. I'll always be near.

Because beyond this place ascends the human race. This is no joke. This life accelerates with unstoppable common folk.

Mother Earth is made of dirt. Don't you know? We are the chosen hopes for a planetary rebirth.

Father shared with me stories of his world travels. Like spice cabinets filled with a variety of seasonings. Tourists, cultures, and vultures have always been scattered across our global nations. Distortions make way for restorations. This is not the end my friend. Many of us are awakening now. We have become seekers, believers in the new age. Known by some as the "woo-hoo freakers."

We take life so seriously, when metaphors are everywhere. Even the Golden Arches sell hamburgers and starches. Stand in your powerful marches.

You and I are not so different my friend. You must be flexible and bend. Let me remind you: You, too, are your own best friend.

By Lisa Eva Gold