Nothing changes if nothing changes. . .
And we hardly ever change. . .
Life assembled
Is destined from the start
To fall apart
The curse
Or gift
Of entropy
Having a beginning
And an ending
A small life in the middle
Intertwined with so many mysteries
Making life an unsolvable riddle
Questions on questions
All while we stay the same
Only slightly insane
Only very plain
All while
Nothing really changes
And we all know that we have to change ourselves
But
We don’t
We just repeat the same patterns over and over again
Until our comfortable lives
Full of routine
Are chiseled into our souls
. . .
And then a man
On one of our screens
Talks about his addictions
And his bad habits
And as tears roll down his face
He says to us,
“Nothing changes if nothing changes, Man. . . And ain't nothing fucking changing.”
And then a monster forms in our stomachs—
A monster that is terrified of complacency—
And who is hungry for novelty.
That monster rages in our bellies,
never satisfied,
always hungry,
always around to haunt us.
And we end up grateful,
That something inside of us
Is still pushing us
To change.
We end up glad that we are a monster who rages against the mundane repeated patterns of life.
CH 2/21/24
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