Mediocrity

Ripples shimmer across the azure glass

I can describe how they form but not why

Time bereft of meaning, place itself lost

Serenity beckons but I question this siren’s lure

Is to become becalmed the shipwreck of human spirit?

To stop and breath, will I not be cornered and caught

Apathy and decay lurking vigilantly in the shadows

But surely to sprint without passion or finish line is folly

Perhaps all meaning is but crude reductionism: to persist.