The Devil Don't Sleep

...but he don't plan well either / up three flights of fright / but I'm sorry my brothers / I'm too quick on this night / the fox down his hole / teeth bare in sight / through my peep-hole, there it is, the typical stereotype / trying to break down my door / two blacks and a white / just like you'd think / it's happening to me / inches / about two / and some fear in between / six-round cylinder feels like a cold axe in my hand / I'd rather not swing it / though it instantly up's my odds / and brings heat with it / not such a huge underdog / fools trying to fool / drinks were on me / conveniently found me on our busy little street / he points, "there he is, be on your way, put your nose to the ground and you might get paid" / in a heart full of evil / unfulfilled need / someone snaps on the inside / dangerous greed / I slide right on by / throwing odds to the side / my security's a virgin / and oh how he beat her / indeed the Devil don't sleep / but he don't plan well either...

So when he miscalculated as he did on Saturday night, I can envision him having his postgame conference disappointingly mumbling phrases like, "outfoxed," and "unprepared," and "he executed a better game than we expected," because I did outfox and possibly better prepare and execute. I don't eagerly say this as some conceited son of righteousness (because God knows I've done my fair share of chalking up negative tally marks in His world), I say this as one who has been greased up a million times and thrown into a sticky situation; surprised to have found the ease at which sliding out occurred; I say this as someone who was scared out of his skull; I say it as luck smiles at me. Each time, someone has activated their right hand, oiled me up, and said, "squeeze out of this one son...if ya can," and I have time and again with my little world and personal brain idiosyncrasies intact, if perhaps more sharpened.

Each time a circumstance such as this presents itself, and there are more than a few to name, I keep thinking of the times I've been told I lead a charmed life. I'd be hard-pressed to disagree with the boldness of that statement as the years roll by...especially on the cusp of this weekend's happenings. An aquaintance also told me that I can never file a complaint with the fates that my life was boring. Normally, I'd find that within the boundaries of complimentary, but in this case I take no such pleaure...quite frankly, I can do without that degree of enlivenment. But why? I mean, WHY have I recently assumed the role of cheater of death? Why? I wouldn't encourage anyone to stand too close to me in the interim while I try to put together a streak of placidity.

So I'm reminded (yet again) of the issue of control and just how much we're given lease over. I just don't really know what to say on this matter anymore. It feels like I've been having the same epiphany on a monthly basis lately. And lately, it feels like someone's been hammering home that point to me.

Recently, life has taken up the consistent hobby of delivering "best mornings of my life."

If you are reading this, know that I love you.