What seems to be important,
about this day and time,
looses all it's strength by evening,
'cause as the night descends,
... all I can think of is the leaving.
The sphere of my life feels so tiny,
compared to everything as a whole,
an insignificance of feeling like a grain again,
lost in the biggest bowl.
So much time seeking reasons,
my day ascends toward more decline,
tears, and fears, and too few cheers,
my life to me ; confining.
My facts and dreams are different,
my duties are encroaching,
a charted course by an outside force,
... I can feel my clouds approaching.
What once was so important,
today, I have no doubt,
if given opportunity,
I would rather live without.
Barry Van Allen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trudging/
