life, for what purposeto what end do we exist, or do we?dwelling in the pain of human finitudewith transient joys, to what enddo not the beasts of the field have more purpose?finding happiness and meaning,is it even possible in their worldcan we even control what matters?a reason and a season for this perpetual autumnmy dreams are as stormy clouds, fast approachingyet tomorrow never arrivesfor we are destined to shuffle on and offwe live, we die, we know not whywhat is this lifeis it even meant to have meaning?breath, eat, love, shit, workand then …..
how long must one endure?giving up not coz I don’t carebut because others don’tI’ve fuckin’ had enoughstepping back from life’s bullshitfighting a losing battletrying not to lose warby losing the battlehow deep must one dig?until you find it all,then to discovermaybe you still do….
Sad but true – far to often I get caught up in this type of corporate greed, where for a few dollars more or an attempt to save on a budget line item …. staff/practitioners are put at risk. Here we go again … just for a few dollars more on our bottom line lets see how we can fuck you over whilst you slave away on the ground in the middle of a pandemic, let me count the ways I can fuck you over salary, equipment, medications .. oh I’m sure I will find a way; to increase my “cost saving” bonus at year end … but don’t worry says the fat cat – while he sits at home; sees his family, sips his whiskey and enjoys the comforts and human touch, whilst those of us in the trenches have (as usual) none …
Take a read at the poem in the link below … nothing changes …they always the same, no matter how many times they revisit their values and mission statements at fancy weekend management conventions ..
home is where we startbut not where were it endsthe pathway from birth to deathis littered with choicescollected, used, stored, discardedsome stones sparkle and temptothers lie cracked, damaged, exposedby life's harsh realitiesyet there is value in these damaged stonesand then, one day, I will die somewhereagainst my will or another’s
but not today
responsibility and the cost thereofwho bears responsibilitywho carries the burdenwhen others do notwhat price is paidin blood or stress?they pay in blood, but not their ownsooner or later the piper calls
hippocratic or hypocrite?to do no harm one must,at least be able to doI came to save not bury
the greater the responsibilitythe greater the costwhat is the priceof keeping others alive?
the sun is behind the cloudscan it rain for a lifetime?a gray-black morasshangs over all
this damocles sworddenying all of happinesswho reside amongst this,constant apprehension
this novel storm that ragescuts all to the quickwhile remaining an affirmation of lifedespite the suffering
if I pass away in some foreign fieldsun burnt white back bonesthe brittle stations of the crosscivilisations like bones… turn to dustwho will know to come and mourn?if they knew, would they?eulogy or legacywhat remains.. other than another dayas the worlds falls apartthe strings are pulledit all unravels, at the endI can’t leave, but eventually I willjust passing through
all paths eventually arriveat the same destinationwhatever one’s stationbe it the cross or another
unity at the endplaying fields are levelledfor in deathall are equal
paths of glory or despairall lead to deathnone can transcend or escapethe level playing field