Steam cools on my kitchen window

as rivulets dribble down inside of it

and shadows snake. How very dull.

Yet I won’t give in to tedium, wave

the white flag, allow myself to pout.

Since anything means but nothing,

and nothing anything, perception’s

deception is in fact a doppelganger,

my double attached to me, obverse

side of the ego mirroring sensation.

As the rivulets continually drip,

monotonous, into a huge abyss,

boredom threatens to take over,

increase fears, cut my heart out

and dangle it from the horizon.

I become weary, bolted to a life

I didn’t invent, my struggles all  

in vain, and freedoms worthless,

eternity if such exists contrived,

contained in a complete vacuum.

I must pick myself up, cast away

the soul’s crown of thorns, chill,

return to childhood’s toy soldiers

played with in the sand, soothing

silences and adolescent romance.

Walls of the card house may fall

and widespread chaos break out,

the center not holding anymore

with the populace grown bored.

Still, I will not give in to tedium.

Instead I’ll take in placid beauty

of a slowly subsiding afternoon,

lofty clear blue sky, with pinkish

hue that clings to the ambient air

shimmering above most brightly.