One Single Impression: Niche

Niche:
We say it all the time--nitch or neesh
Depending on where the tracks
Run through our real estate.

It means place
Of comfort,
Belonging.
It means nest.

But sometimes the notion
Of destiny
Invades our minds;
We say we were meant to be there.
I don't know about any of that.

I mean, actually
(Thought I thought I'd be polite)
That I think all of that--
Comfort, belonging, destiny--
Is total crap.  I think we kid ourselves

With all this soft talk about a master plan
And a guy in the sky who can justify our every wrong move
With a bitterly wrought moral to our story
About how we somehow earn those kicks in the pants

Out of the plain and simple and magical truth
That a niche is only any good for anything
If we get the hell out of it

And fly

Like the first bird that ever had the idea
Of lifting off on its own steam

And nobody's down there taking notes
Giving some ghost the credit.

We make it happen.

We rise from small places

And, damn it,

We fly.

One Single Impression