Sigh. It's poetry Wednesday. I'll repeat a poem I wrote in 2005. It should illuminate my absence from this blog. Here I am, repeating the same bad habits of 5 years ago....
Prisoner At A Desk
The outrage of being here, tied
By bonds and deadlines not of my making
To this spot, for long hours,
Sense of obligation and satisfaction when work completed.
Prisoner at a desk, I’ll admit it.
Tied here by the need of rent and food
Of bills to pay and gas to buy.
And what, you ask would come if
Those earthly things were magically
Given to me, not obligations to pay...
Well, when that happens,
And I don’t doubt that it will,
I’ll be at a desk by choice
And perhaps
The texture and feel of WHAT I do
And WHEN I do it, shall be my own.
No longer at someone’s bidding.
Content to have sense of accomplishment
Coupled with self-set deadlines and missions.
Prisoner at a desk?
Held by my own need to be
Someone and something I’ve grown accustomed to.
