Motivation, inspiration lost, moon-boot
animosity towards box underneath my
desk serving as the throbbing, injured
left-foot rest, did my best, yet haven’t
kept my head - feeling overwhelmed
My beloved document lost its allure in
a war for comfort, work station’s a mess,
kettle short-circuited, dirty mugs and cups
proclaiming me a hobo in a dirty den - I’ll
have to clean up before I can work again
Now its been done; the offensive footrest
box got worse and the black moon-boot
sock still escaped purgatory but I breathe
in peace now while venting my frustration
WHY did this thing ever happen to me
One guru complacently declares I did it to
myself as a deserved form of masochistic
punishment for my sin of judging another
person - without knowing anything about
them, unaware of the log in my own eye
While focusing on an imagined splinter in
the eye of another, whose life is not mine
to judge - and I’m sorry...
[23 October 2014]
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