I don’t think anybody leaves
this life in a state of blissful
contentment, having achieved
everything they set out to do.
There’s always the question
of the books you didn’t read,
the people you let slip away,
the pain you unnecessarily let in
and the happiness you recklessly
forsook. Maybe it’s different
if you’re a Christian. Then this life
is only a foretaste of what’s coming —
a brighter, brilliant, beautiful
New Jerusalem paradise where
there’s no trace of sin, and sorrow
is yesterday’s whisper. But if you’re
like everyone else, getting by
and trying your best to futilely
ground yourself in reality
while the golden echoes of fantastical
reverie call out your name,
asking you to walk away from
the laptop and the grind,
the horrible 9 to 5 that leaves you
burnt out, and immerse yourself in
faux thrilling escapism, be it a sci-fi series
or a bottle of wine while some
90s Grunge plays in the background,
you know your life’s story will
always be an unfinished sonata,
the curtain call an illusion,
sweet retirement a myth you
chant like a monk a mantra,
the swansong never happening,
the quotidian rhythms of a mundane
existence your forever dance.
Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash
Ordinary Person 
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