Seasons

Any time I try to sit down and contemplate the “seriousness” of reality and all its demands (mostly made by people who want economic number-to-go-up all of the time), I fail miserably.
Reality
Existence
Being
In the face of, and in contrast to, not being
Is laughably absurd, and no matter how you try, you cannot intimidate me with it.
I laugh at every attempt and so it is a daily practice of mine to contemplate the various individual demands on me and my time and make sure they are sorted into the appropriate non-anxiety-inducing buckets in which they rightly belong.
This poem is a commentary on that.