Memo to Self

The conference ends
and real life begins
immediately,
a letter waiting for me
in the mailbox.
I forgot I had
committed to being in
Advent services in December.
I thought I would
just be reading something.
Now they're showing me
as an "actor",
playing out a scene,
maybe even wearing a stupid costume.
Soon the leader will be saying
I'm one of them,
part of her Drama team.

Memo to self:
Nip this at the bud
right after you say your last line.
You need to write.

The conference ends
and real life begins
Monday morning.
Back to the grind.
Back to the office space
that I inhabit 40 hours a week.
No one says, "Welcome back."
They all say, "You were sorely missed."
Hard work is my Catch-22,
do a good job and
no one wants me to leave.
I still say they
cost me a promotion.

Memo to self:
Don't forget your vision
is bigger than theirs.
You need to write.

The conference ends
and real life begins.
The fires of creativity
are still burning bright,
but the everyday keeps
pulling for my attention,
wanting me to join their groups
and not just for the temporary
time period.  But they
haven't read the memos,
the memos I keep writing
to myself as a reminder
about what's possible,
the memos that tell me
the one thing that has
to stay paramount on my mind.

You need to write.