My Script

I wrote my morning in precision
loved to have it carefully orchestrated,
same player and sets used
the story line penned in flawless expectation
so every scene should be performed
just as I have directed it.

But it never turns out as I think
some of the players get so moody
and the props at times break.

It all turns into unpredictable acts,
nothing becoming as I have wanted.
As the lights go down and darkness come
inside I feel so hollow and frustrated,
peace erodes away,
all I want is the calm,
which consistency brings.

How it truly gnaws at me
there is no cohesion in the events
not a single chance to claim
what gave me hope and happiness
among the hours of a certain day,
fades and doesn’t get repeated
even when nothing seems to change.

So I search for tranquility
beyond that stage I create
to grasp a few blessed moments
able to restore that absent serenity.

Then returning to that dressing room
prepared to try again tomorrow
at clinging to this hope
my best joys will be repeated.