Mediocre music. Mediocre day. Mediocre drive.
Mediocre clothes and the people who wear them.
Mediocre marriage. Mediocre job. Mediocre life.
Mediocre motivation and the people who have some.
Mediocre minds. Mediocre curiosity. Mediocre times.
And the people who have none.
What a waste.
What a waste of time.
So short and we waste it all away.
What is it that keeps here?
Is it love of the uninspired?
Lackluster pedestrians walking through the streets of life.
Grab a floatie and float away.
Funny how that word repeats.
I used to think it could be a virtue.
Sometimes I still do.
Living life in simple presence and asking nothing else of it.
Putting nothing else in it
But how silly is that?
It’s who I am though.
My father’s daughter walking through the trees
And needing nothing else.
Simply watching every second of life
And taking it as it comes.
I’m not afforded that luxury completely
As I am my mother’s daughter.
And in many ways, nothing like her.
The opposite of who she is, as was necessary.
As is necessary.
In that, I live in reality.
Cold anti-idealist reality.
Staring at idealism through a microscope.
But still I have to ask, wonder
Why is it that we must give up on ideals?
This isn’t what I meant it to be at all.
But I’ll try to tug it back into focus….
Why don’t we ask ourselves, our spouses, our friends what we want from life
And if we do, do we ask them how we can get there,
Can we get there together?
What do we need to do to get there?
Why aren’t we there?
I failed to focus, but I’ll leave it all the same.
Perhaps it’ll make sense to me tomorrow.
Tomorrow it will all be clearer why I set out to say, and end up asking.
Why I set out to determine and instead undermine.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll look back and the path will be clearer.
I see that word repeats.
“Loose lips sink ships all the damn time,
Not this time!
Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love.
Cause they got the cages,
They got the boxes
They are the hunters,
We are the foxes
And we run!”
We build our own cages.
We tear them down.
Our ideals don’t really matter in reality,
Because we could never face what we really want,
What we really need to face,
To make them matter.
That’s the point.
That’s why we never ask,
Why we never say.
Funny isn’t it?
It’s not been long enough and always too long.
And I miss it,
Now I mean it.