Archive
07/29/09 - (1)
Heading to Work
One morning, something he couldn't quite detect, isolate, arrest, For other more and less pressing distractions distracting him, Dawned on him, as he was on his way to work:
No matter where he was, in what direction he might be going, He was always and forever heading to work, Regardless he hadn't, after fifty years, determined the nature of his work.
And on top of that revelation came an illumination: Though he'd yet to determine the nature of his occupation, He was perfectly well aware that it was always there,
Waiting for him to embrace it, wherever, whenever, he might arrive, No questions asked, as to his tardiness or early appearance, Eager to have him focus on its intricacies, complexities, big questions.
And on that mind-altering dawn, When he first realized that, all his life, he'd been on his way to work, He decided it was time to take a break,
Plan a vacation from the rigors of continuous commuting, Relax, by simply going nowhere, staying home, for a week, Basking in being absent from whatever it was he did, wherever that was.
But when, the following a.m., he attempted to implement his intention, He discovered a horrific reality: boredom was already stalking him. He jumped into his work clothes, rushed from the house,
Headed off to wherever whatever he was supposed to do was And was waiting for his arrival. Only, work wasn't there, nor would it ever again be waiting for him.
07/29/09 - (1)
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