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Prayers, Dreams and Goals
When you pray for something, add feet to your prayers – Do something about it.
When you dream, add wings to your dreams – Take action, no matter how small.
If you have a goal, write it down and put it somewhere you can see it.
You will be reminding yourself that you are working towards and end,
not just wandering aimlessly.
Anyone can do nothing – It takes someone to accomplish something.
Don’t forget Synergy – an object in motion generates forward movement.
Remember Serendipity – Along the way, enjoy all the good stuff that happens.
Reach For The Stars
Always reach for the stars!
If you only achieve halfway,
you’ll have gone farther than most
Because they failed to even try.
Add feet to your dreams and prayers.
Start by writing them down,
including a beginning step to make them a reality.
Synergy will be created thereby.
The Cowboy
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
At the age of sixteen,
He was tall, hard and lean
As he began his long-dreamed-of quest.
On an old swayback nag,
He’d push, pull or drag.
He followed the setting sun west.
By a lightning-bolt chance,
He found work on a ranch
Where he grew into a man.
He worked hard every day
For very little pay,
But always he rode for the brand.
He worked for thirty and found,
As he glanced around town,
And strolled into the Lady Luck Saloon.
He ordered Rot-Gut-Red,
You know the fiery kind
That has to be sipped from a spoon.
When he was right,
He wouldn’t back down,
Never a question of budgin’.
If a man disagreed,
He could go for his gun —
Old Sam Colt would do the judgin’!
He learned to live by his word
As he helped round up the herd —
A cowboy’s life is sure tough!
He learned about whiskey,
Women and cards —
Why, he even learned to dip snuff!
On a north-bound trail,
Headed towards Kansas rail,
They sweated and worked without rest.
The deck was stacked
When the redskins attacked,
And he heard their loud, piercing yells.
O’er noise of bawling cattle,
Came sounds of the battle.
He clutched an arrow buried deep in his chest.
They found a six-gun by his hand,
His blood mixed with the land —
His dying words, “Tell ’em I done my best!”
Where the buffalo roam,
The young cowboy makes home,
A cross by a small bubbling stream.
He’s rode his last hoss,
And he’s roped his last steer,
But he’s fulfilled both his quest and dream!
wfosterwelborn 