Mediocrity Is The Enemy Of Excellence

 We live on the edge.

Not the cutting edge, but the blended, blunt edge of everything important

The place where we can watch and complain and criticize from a safe distance while the world whirls violently beneath us, but little of consequence takes hold.

Never risking the center, we remain anonymous: A face, a mask, a shroud. 

Don't take a stand, be content to be swept into the tidal wave of inaction. 

Bobbing on the grey current of mediocrity

We drift, aimless in our circle, hoping not to be asked to produce, content to coast.

Mistaking our movement as success,

Dousing the dreams of those who dare

While we spin, content that nothing will change today,

Not on our watch.

Our hopes cling to the clock as it spins,

The hours weave and blend into insignificance

Failing to see it is the only constant,

As it retreats from the edge and flows down the drain

But we don't care, time can flow away from us,

We are jealously content to remain unchanged

As we desperately cling to the edge.