That delicate, ever-shifting balance between
'warding off wolves' (both inner and outer)
'making peace with this insanity-fest world of imperfection.'
Is embracing one manifestation of thought
to ignore or betray the other?
Are they compatible?
Or merely intrinsically overlapped
as they flow to and fro, endlessly?
Some days are deemed 'success,' some days...
let's be generous and say
'less than wonderful.'
no matter our station or contribution--
are stuck knee-deep in mediocrity.
A brackish mix of back and forth,
vacillating between storm clouds and sunshine.
Despair and contentment and happiness and numbness,
all rag-tag swirled in an unavoidable
It is what it is.
Ain't no rhyme or reason...
ain't no need to fight.