When BIG is good

The close-in myopia of 

D'Ramsey's dystopia

Drums hard on

my immature pate;

[It REALLY only looks this bad when you mess w/ the edit feature ]

Saving up patien$e,

Tempts me with license

To cheat out of

Choosing to wait.

 So I dream up escapes,

Sometimes weekly

Or daily, this last one

To Rodeo Drive...

Where I ponder that Bigness

Isn't just business, it's

Crucial dire statements on

Mankind's heart-mind cry;

The freedom to dream there,

A birthright inbred, where

Vistas and properties

Bleed

Arboretums of spirit, that
Capably cheer up
My me-centered blinding
Child greed.

It's a Godbreath'ed faculty

Creative sparks always breed

Bigness from Bigness

Begat;

While the rest of us resent

What bigness can

Choose to spend,

Remaining but pygmies, and mean,

Instead, I am
Celebrating:

That dream of a Big new start,

Slave to a Ramsay chart,

Freed by a solstice

Of seeing

How shallow my eyes are set;

Wrestling with endless 'get,'

Mindless to

'Already have...' 

One good lifelong drag

On the lie of 'Don't have'

and I've muddied High Heaven's

Deep spring,

Where what is most keen

Can only be seen

Humbly germanating

In the deep;

Planted with errant weeds
Wanting to best compete
Watered with lemon or
Lyme, but

With summer just crouched,

 My laziness grouches

and smallness threatens
To deleaf.

If I harness a better pow'r,

Jesus' repairing hour,

Able to feed on
His Wait,

The Bigness without
May inspire me less pout,
Cooling this grieved
fevered slate,

Watching his angels craft

Rafters from whence to draft

Views of a stroll

With His 

Bigness of Soul.