Dos Cervezas Philosophica

I wake up each morning to a world
so alien to that of my birth
I’m unsure I can even live in it,
unsure if I care to try.

How many men through the centuries
have uttered similar thoughts –
living lives of perceived futility,
each morrow a dark, cold, threatening abyss.

These ARE just thoughts, mere words –
floating clouds in the sky, blowing to & fro’;
And yet thoughts have such power, do they not,
when we take them to be the truth?

The world was never as I perceived it to be
when I was but an innocent child;
Even now, I create the life I live –
moment to moment, on the stage inside my mind.

It seems the dreams & schemes of the silly child
were never meant to be realized, after all;
they were mere dress rehearsal for the man –
a whirlwind of costumes & characters & overacted emotions.

In the morning, I’ll wake up to a world
just waiting to be re-imagined.
Will I run, will I hide, will I fight (will I die)? —–
Stop thinking and pop another beer …