May Day is upon us,
Summer is commenced,

And I find I am strung out on existence again.
Hazy daydreams and nostalgic motifs
play out on the threshold of waking awareness,

in this quiet interiority.
These recurring scenes

of abandoned planets, weathered landscapes
and transmuted ecology, fading lithographs
by fallen civilizations, collective memories
become the sole providence of those few
moments, thoughts, wandering lights.

Questions to ask when difficult emotions arise: Am I in a process?
Am I being too ******* myself? Am I taking things too seriously?

"He called philosophy down from the heavens,
And placed it in cities, and introduced it even in homes,
And drove it to inquire about life" (said Cicero, on Socrates).