Is there a point where it makes a difference
That you've noticed the repetition
And the futility...?
(...A tale told by an idiot...)
And does this realization allow
You to somehow rise above
The day-to-day unfolding of time...
To leap --- And grasp a handful of happiness...?
(...Full of sound and fury...)
I suppose it's so...
Piles of joy, there for the taking,
Like the bags of used food
That feed the morning crows ---
Beautiful black killers in the April dawn.
(...Signifying nothing...)
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