Not everyday is a peach; sometimes, it’s a bit of a reach.
“Fair” is not something that Mother Nature acknowledges
Regardless of how much humanity would wish otherwise.
Each day is its own, separate and quite unique in play
And some are totally better than others in that sorta way.
I don’t know about you, and I’m sure you don’t know about me
But if I could, most days I’d rather just hide inside of a tree.
It’s not very elegant, I would completely admit to that
But what else can you do when the world does squat?
Humanity is a stain upon the skein of the land far and wide;
Just ask any old creature that crawls upon its face, or not.
They’ll tell you true as daylight follows the moon’s night.
Existence is a non sequitur all wrapped up in pretty bright.
These are illusions that we bind to our lives, little things;
Things that we use to convince us otherwise about it.
We are blind, most often of that very fact in and of itself.
No measure of maturity, nor wisdom will change that.
‘Pon this pithy plateau of doubt and discernment I stand
Gazing out past the horizon of Man, Machine, and Other.
I wonder, as I almost always do during these times
Whether or not the chicken was smarter to cross the road
Or better yet, better off just to stay at home and explode.