So much pain and sorrow, so little joy!
It seems to me the world is full enough
with ugliness and the things that annoy
and irritate – why carry all that stuff
with you in a place where you can let go,
where appearance and local convention
don’t apply, where you can speak what you know
without fear, pressure or apprehension?
Why catalog the ways in which your life
has sucked, when the real world carries that news?
While it is good to find a caring ear,
does filling it with just darkness and strife
seem like the most productive path to choose?
Life is so short, and each moment so dear.
17 JUL 2003
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