Samsara

Drunk on your words,

Entranced by your fire,

Bitten
Blighted
Blunted

Made small and single-minded

by your game.

But if I stop,

refuse to play,

what remains?

A gray world of duty:

Lethargic

Bureaucratic

Washed-out and empty.

Endless days.

The only living

is in the lie;

the rest is just existence.

And so I grasp samsara

With both hands.

This was written for Three Word Wednesday.