An anvil did not drop on your head today.
That is one blessing you can count, I suppose.
But you still felt gripped
in vices of time and loneliness,
wondering if your presence
is reduced to time spent
on or within some machine
proving nothing
to no one
until you're
dead.
There is beauty in the fact that
in that state of chaos
you are not alone.
You are part of that chaos's construction
and its deconstruction.
That is one blessing we can count, I suppose.
