In pristine white, the panicked figure
Dashes to and fro, a weighty stack
Of pages in its hands.
Unfilled and unfinished,
Each page sends forth a call,
Demanding time, energy, and
Focus – begging for resolution.
One here. One there. Like
A pinball in a room of
Magnets powered in surges
Of their own wants and needs,
It fights for control
Even as it fights to succeed.
And so the figure rushes,
Following the yanks and pulls
Of each page, each goal:
Split into infinity,
And perpetually caught
In others’ needs.
March 6, 2016
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