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Apr 2020
We wake.
We worry
what the day will bring
If a second coffee is too much a thing
If the milk is off, if the washing is done
Can we do the ironing before the clock strikes one?

Will the dust that lurks in those little nooks
Under lampshades lips and on top shelve books
Accumulate to cause our death rattle cough
So we’re undiscovered β€˜til the stench turns rough?

Has the dog been walked, has the cat been fed?
Has he tidied his room and made his bed?
Can I afford this and that? Have I remembered to shave?
Will I retire with no savings to misbehave?

Was the work I did yesterday correct?
Will it cause huge problems to resurrect?
And lead many fingers to point at me
Will I be sacked for everyone to see?

Is my income sufficient, have I over spent?
Will I have enough to pay my rent?
Do I rail at colleagues and think they conspire
To burn my career on a funeral pyre

At night when my mind should be shut down
These thoughts of woe go round and round
Petty nonsense obsessions are my default
I wish I could stop them, tell them to halt

But the human condition is like this
A constant search for tranquil bliss
Beyond our reach, an impossible mission
For stress and sorrow are the human condition.
Written by
Solvitur Ambulando
119
 
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