“It is what it is”
He said
Just like that
Just matter-of-fact
“It is what it is.”
Like that’s all there was.
He said
“It is what it is”
But he meant
“That’s how it is.”
Now I can take a thing
A person
As he/she/it is
I may not like it
I may not be happy
But hey,
“it is what it is”
But that’s not what he meant.
He meant
That’s how it is
That’s life
It’s full of strife
And pain
And rain
And shame
Full of fire and flame
All about fame
Winning the game
How much you gain.
That man meant that our lives
They just strut their hour on the stage
Never thinking how strange
Or fake and false our fabricated
Fashions fall.
How full of sound and fury
This empty life defined
By such refined
Violence and brutality.
Thank you Pinter.
Thank you Kane
For your foundry of Pain.
But “it” is not for me,
I was born free
Born to see
The Creator who Created me
And HE
Doesn’t say “that’s how it is”
He says
“I called you before you were born.”
“I knitted you in your mother’s womb.”
He says
“What father gives his son a snake?”
“I know the plans I have for you”
“I make mountains into plains.”
“See streams in the desert.”
My Creator says to me
“I shall be with you always.”