The truth is There’s always dishes to do a floor to mop up a phone call to make food to cook fences to paint people to see about a dog, about a cat
About a life you never own up to because of all the little hurdles all the small achievements you rake in your confined Zen garden neatly piling skipping stones as if boulders don’t exist outside as if there’s no mountains that require scaling as if the big issues Who you are? Why you are? When will you be? are not looming over in the distance casting shadow in the twilight of your days
The truth is all these notches on your belt are the sum effort of your laying lows the trophies for your standing stills the “what if”s you stifle into the pillow because you know the odds never scale with the effort
Truth is minimal struggle dictates the average but you decide on the endeavor blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the barrens
13th installment in this series of poems inspired by physics (for details, read the first one in the series here: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3122578). Shared this with a struggling friend recently, let him know we all struggle.
For more information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boltzmann_distribution