You sit too much. You sleep too much.
You barely make a peep, too much.
You shrug your shoulders, eat too much.
And yet, can’t fathom why
You research and you delve too much,
Put problems on a shelf, too much,
Feel sorry for yourself, too much,
So much, you want to cry.
Small wonder, that you’ve broadened so—
The lot of hermit’s often so—
Your firm resolve has softened, so
You’re not yourself, by half—
But if you’d breathe the outside air,
And look around, and see what’s there–
What to pursue, what to beware—
You’d find the Middle Path.
Copyright 2020 Andrea LeDew
If you would like another semi-philosophical morsel to chew on, that fits the mood of our time, try The Grand Hotel Abyss.