I laid my back on the soft sofa bed
To draw myself out from stress and sadness
But inklings with regrets whirled in my head.
Was dreaming to become a deaconess
For a full-time worker in God’s service
What if I’d pursued, workloads bring lightness?
Less kids at Sunday schools, I’m more at ease
No lesson plans… just teach bible verses
Play the hymns on church organs without cease.
What if I’d become one of the nurses
Taking care of patient and not grader
Lots of patience, but no hugs and kisses?
What if I would be a teacher forever
Rejuvenation comes once in a while
To play with kids as friend, sis and mother?
As my thoughts swirled, I gave myself a smile
I laid my back on the soft sofa bed
Rejuvenation comes once in a while
But inklings with regrets whirled in my head.
May 20, 2023 8.03am
10 syll/line
Maybe a simulation only
Tsunami tells us the waves
Will eventually roar storeys high
The endless quarrying tells us
One day the mountain rocks start rolling
The flood tells us the rivers
Will penetrate into the cities like roads
Pollution makes the rivers feed on colours
Acid rain sheds the leaves bald
Deforestation makes the forests thin
And animals start shifting
Radioactive waste makes the fishes commit suicide collectively
Workloads makes people
Become pressured cans with stony faces
The skyscrapers poke into heaven Resulting in a bigger hole in the ozone layer
The endless oil mines poke into hell
Resulting in volcano eruptions
Internal wars and boundary wars are Only signs of men struggling
To survive the pre-doomsday
Congestions
Occur in the brain
Pressures and tensions
Workloads and targets
Competitions and expectations
Time limits and deadlines
All contribute to
A serious spiritual traffic jam
With
No by-pass
No overhead bridge
As life is not as simple
As a traffic jam on the road
We have to pay for every bit of prosperity
Hail, the vale aches from retraced tattered feet going hither and tither the rambunctious brood, as dawn's golden sleigh race into a sanguine morn, of languishing warmth to sheath from the fleecing errant breeze, of yonder mountaintop, amidst a blanketed respite snow made heavy from the weight of the gods, who sit eyeing the mere mortals workloads that wanes into clear desks and cold seats. Traffic slows in the late afternoon and speeds when loosened while the dusk undresses the night, whose yawns of wearisomeness is inhibited by their backsides while bustling and hustling end, lain ontop of unkept beds.
2020 January 14