There’s nothing going on with me. I do not sleep that well, it’s true, But in today’s economy, There’s much to think about, and do: Societal inequities, And spiritual eschewing — There’s nothing much for me to do, Except, to just keep doing. Some ask me why I post so much: The words keep dancing in my head; They follow me into the streets, And haunt me while I lie in bed, Like circles made of rumination, Choices, always ruing — And how, now, do I handle this? Get up, and just keep doing. I’m hidden in plain sight, my diagram, And much more what I do than Who I am
Much that’s going on Becomes, full stop, Much that never really went. We waste our worry As directed And never realize it.