{"id":109772,"date":"2022-06-25T12:44:52","date_gmt":"2022-06-25T16:44:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/?p=109772"},"modified":"2022-06-25T14:36:26","modified_gmt":"2022-06-25T18:36:26","slug":"there-use-to-be","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2022\/06\/there-use-to-be\/","title":{"rendered":"There Use to Be  (Hour 4)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There Used to Be<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There used to be a woods so high and thick<\/p>\n<p>that where I sit was high in a tree.<\/p>\n<p>The water and islands I see would be<\/p>\n<p>hidden by the Douglas Fir next to me.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Squirrels scurried around the<\/p>\n<p>ground and hurried up the trees<\/p>\n<p>for reasons unknown to me.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>There was a time<\/p>\n<p>when time was lost.<\/p>\n<p>Can it be it\u2019s not what<\/p>\n<p>it\u2019s purported to be?<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>A gigantic boulder rolled<\/p>\n<p>here by a wave of ice<\/p>\n<p>twelve thousand years ago<\/p>\n<p>looks pretty much the same<\/p>\n<p>as it did a hundred years ago.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Why do I think my life<\/p>\n<p>is so important?<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>After all, this life is just a<\/p>\n<p>snapshot in an old polaroid<\/p>\n<p>that is faded to yellow.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m giving a lot more importance<\/p>\n<p>to what I do than it really deserves.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>And while the bigger me thinks of<\/p>\n<p>changing and improving the world.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I should know who I really am.<\/p>\n<p>An ant in a colony of ants that is moving sand<\/p>\n<p>because that\u2019s what I\u2019m programmed to do.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Try as I will it\u2019s hard to understand<\/p>\n<p>that the grain of sand I shoulder around<\/p>\n<p>is just what it is and the only thing<\/p>\n<p>I can really change is me.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; There Used to Be &nbsp; There used to be a woods so high and thick that where I sit was high in a tree. The water and islands I see would be hidden by the Douglas Fir next to me. &nbsp; Squirrels scurried&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":29,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-109772","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109772","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/29"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=109772"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109772\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":111378,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109772\/revisions\/111378"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=109772"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=109772"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=109772"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}