Wells of freshness spray through rusty sprinklers.
A new beginning, but aren't they all.
The familiar recognition of consciousness
starts nagging again.
Like the rice harvesters of Vietnam
So does my day too start already behind.
The same things I did yesterday
need done today.
The meditations of a brush
sooth my anxious soul.
I plead with my mind like Vegas pleads with me.
What happens here, stays here.
Though that is never the case.
Another beginning.
Another day further behind.
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