Slow Mornings, Fast Days - Aetherek (Poem)

Slow Mornings, Fast Days

What pleasures I derive from a slow morning,
Drive me through the rest of the day.
Though I cannot help but
Stress the tough work that is not of art—
Matters of economy always guilt the heart.
Can I leave it behind? Will you give the okay?
Your okay? Is that even possible anyway?
I chained myself, so you could save the day.
Tell me, oh fellow sinners of mine,
What do you do that is so divine?

Can I summon God, or will the devil appear instead?
They chatter all day long—or is it just in my head?
What keeps them at bay? What stirs up there?
Is it hope I dream of—or merely live in fear?

Ah, the life of a working human!
You must be down for anything—there’s always a plan.
In constant action, forever and always,
And yet you wonder
Where your life went—
Dying, you worry and ponder.
Alas, know now:
Childlike is the way to be.
Regretfully, with the dying of the light,
You truly start to see.