THE CITY OF BURDEN

AND OF THE BURDENED

ENGAGE IN CREATIVE PURSUITS.

Artistic endeavors call to you

Though you can’t rightly say what 

You rummage through your chest of possessions 

waiting for inspiration to strike 

“If I only had my watercolors,

I’d paint the bay.

I suppose a sketch would have to do.”

The view is serene

And in its way 

The isolation intoxicating

At first you were apprehensive

Then lonely

Then afraid

Then desperate

Then boredom followed afterward

“Relatively wonderful when all things are considered.”

The day is passing quickly and you haven’t found a purpose:

Do you want to sketch the bay?

Or write an entry in your journal?