Early Morning Existentiala

How harsh it can be early in the morning even before the sunrise
When all the world is asleep and the house is quiet
 
Only the old grandfather clock ticking down the time
No other distractions to sedate and ease my mind
 
It is here that the tough questions lie in waiting
Relentless doubt creeps out from the dark corner where it hides
 
Nagging uncertainty about everything ... work, love, and even self
As if my whole life has been a farce or even worse a foolish dream
 
That somehow I blew it, missed out on what was important
Failed to envision and grasp my destiny, settled for less
 
These feelings even more poignant and stinging lately
As I acknowledge a life probably two thirds over at best
 
Then my reason kicks in searching for an explanation
Probably the pangs of middle age, male menopause, or some hormone imbalance
 
Retreating to the safety and security of science and logic
Rather than face some profound existential truth
 
Oh how I wish I were like everyone else
Who go through their lives without such thought and contemplation
 
Living their busy lives full of emptiness
Literally fat, dumb, and to my envy happy
 
When I try to talk these feelings over with my love
Even she is no help saying "you think too much"
 
Perhaps she's right, like she most usually is
Again in silent resignation I surrender, at least for now
 
I look out spying the rising sun's triumphant arrival
Painting the upper leaves of the maple outside my window
 
So I get up and put on my running clothes and shoes
Heading down the driveway and into the breaking dawn