Recuperation Recuperation Recuperation*

The way I feel this morning
Has curious parallels with a state of mourning.
Dull-minded catatonia.
I have a sense I’m not alone here.
Many folk from similar domains
Laconic, inevitably feeling inane,
Grateful for pre-scripted breaks
That otherwise they may not take,
Professional momentum
The energy that drives them;
Less and less the inspiration,
Those miracle moments of assimilation
Like glittering prizes inherently priceless
And frankly, my dear, a good deal less commonplace,
The common-or-garden behavioural discord
Curiously effective in attracting reward;
Behaviours enured and attentions secured,
(Keen focus on what-not-to-do
Passively acquired in the human zoo,
A seismic fault in essential strategy
And direct line to general catastrophe).
Just perhaps it may catch your attention,
This stuff beyond normal workers’ comprehension,
The nature of this relentless challenge
In which there’s never ever recourse to revenge:
A Zen Process if ever there was,
A blinded-sighted struggle with Why/Because
Bearing a message of inherent restraint
If only to avoid parental complaint(!)
So let’s keep this short to avoid irritation,
No further analysis required on this occasion
Suffice to say, we’re on holiday:
A week to sleep it all away,
To shop at length upon the net,
And for a few days, to simply forget;
To reconvene with self and soul,
The sum of the parts
Surpassing the whole…


* – with a silent but deeply felt disclaimer for any psychological ill effects… I’m not sure the irony will ever be lost.


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