I Juggle
Hypotheticals.
As the moments disappear
Never to come back
I juggle hypotheticals
And try to cut some slack.
I keep thoughts oscillating
Crowding out the grief and pain
Replacing them with new ones
That often is the same.
Testing theoretical
Can be a tortuous pursuit
Some don’t cut the mustard
Others just don’t suit.
I often walk the tightrope
Afraid that I might fall
I hear the abyss echoing
Her soft resounding calls.
Speculative suppositions
Invade my mind at night
Then whirl with hypotheticals
And fade in the morning light.
They are demonic parasites
Difficult to eradicate
And if given high-octane fuel
Speed and accelerate.
It may be academic
A conjecture of a kind
That grows in its veracity
And infiltrates the mind.
It’s only hypothetical
And in the light of day
Appears just like a bad dream
That slowly fades away.
©
David Rudder
2023
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