By Aurin Squire
My phone doesn't ring as much these days.
I could cancel my facebook account.
And I don't jump quick to jobs that just pay.
Time dead-ended outweighs the cash amount.
There is a wonderful arising grace,
seeing faces change on page and screen.
My own self-invented off-kiltered pace
before bowing and wiping the slate clean.
Seasons dates scrapped, scrubbed, rubbed the text out,
How you or I could even worry and cry?
Toggling music on the train, releasing doubt
in the season we watch everything die.
No one can sum total the busy-ness,
self-inflicted tasks of a pointless quest.
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