Why am I here? Why do I bother?
What will be, will be
One is living reasonably well, so why bring on agony?
Yet as I grow older,
Become oddly both more fearful and bolder,
I chase the unknown to know better
Find the dark spots, study them to see if they matter.
As I am slid out, invariably my eyes have to blink harder
To cope with the light that does NOT the fears asunder
In the cocoon it was easier to escape,
Now there are folks to pretend to - everything is OK.
In these times, work comes to the rescue
The opportunity to focus on small, petty issues
Not that report that needs tweaking or the paper that needs writing or the thesis that needs reviewing or the assignment that needs grading,
No, just the admin that otherwise is frustrating, the messages, mostly banal, that tempt reading or the IG reels that facilitate mindless viewing.
Fear, one knows not how it surfaces
Even as one is cheerful, it rears to knock you in your face.
Pretence gets you far enough, but then your energy drains,
Then you read your friend's messages and once more you are sane. /you regain.
- Written on 5 April 2024.
- I think I am channeling too many doc visits and scans.
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