Esprit de corps

Life stirs me at different hours each day

Sometimes long before dawn, sometimes long after

Thirst and hunger have become secondary

After waking from slumber where I lay

I lead myself in mere blind half steps in darkness

Lights would only delay my first agenda

As if that in itself is some prime accomplishment

Albeit my eyes may be open, the fog still hasn’t drifted

So, I sit for a bit, flushed in a dazed stare out a window

I’ll not recall anything I may have seen- mind you    

My essence is simply rebooting its normalcy   

To trudge life at the speed of justice

Like patients at an insane asylum walking in circles   

At least here I can enjoy my choice of… direction  


Poet of the Light © 2022


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