"Everyone tries their best"
It is no wonder then, that everyone's best seems to dissipate with a single
gust of wind
The collective effort of 8 billion
people - or however many of us there are now - is simply too much for the world to handle. We are too straddled with overtimes, unrequited love, building a body
that is more attractive
than our perceptions
will allow, and a multitude of insane,
other, 'productive' tasks:
mindlessly absorbing ourselves into the depths of the internet
so there is no space for the efforts
of any others: it is that grindset mindset,
the continuous, unending, unceasing
flow that is inevitably lost on these winds
of time. Every well intentioned effort
simply flutters and flys and flees away
on a single whimsical gust.
Never noticed. Or seen.
This absurd cacophony of effort wilts
away into silence, as if dropped
from an old willow tree in the shade
of a grey autumn eve. Once a great canopy of lush, productive, hard-working
leaves, it was soon ripped,
from a tree who no longer needed
it, and carried by the harsh
November wind - to fall and rot
and disintegrate into the groggy
earth with all the others
piled on one another in some pitiless
heap, waiting to be trodden
on and shat
on by a passing poodle wearing a pink coat.