Morning Thoughts

Or, the continuation of a long existential crisis...

The morning comes too soon,

Zwischen Fels und Dornenhecken,

I find myself wanting to chase it away,

Like a woman fending off crows

From her garden with a shovel.

Sleep and an eternity of dreaming

Sounds sweeter to me than an earthly scheming,

The spurning and flailing of limbs,

The aches, pains, and unearthly

Cries toward the unseen,

Adding fresh dissonance to the shrieks

From cars and street noises outside,

A preamble to the challenges and sufferings of the day,

The unnatural labors and infinite frustrations

Of modern work and forced social interaction,

Host to new hells, birther of new abysses,

The odd morphing of the body

From the many years of the daily grind and confusion,

Like a machinist very slowly and arduously

Crafting cruel designs on a crude wheel.

Where's my coffee!

No more thinking about such things.

The day can't be lived on paper or mused on overmuch,

For the world is sad enough as it is without mock sorrows.

No, it must be endured the hard way!

For while it lasts, which is for but a day.

Rerum concordia discors...

In the morning I merely

Go outside and hang my head,

Letting the chatter of the birds

And the gentle sway of the winds

Soothe my savage thoughts.

I drink in the silences that I steal

Between the worker's hammering and street noises,

The planes overhead chopping at the remnants of my equanimity

Like great electric mothers of wasps.

In this eclectic hash of an environment

Occasionally a golden ray of light will strike just so

And I'll feel a moment of warmth,

The dying god reaches out to me

For old time's sake,

A distant vestige of that golden age.

I take a deep breath and for a moment I'm lost again,

In this greatest moment of the day,

Until I can sleep and dream again.