in the lost, of the lost
land-bound with the heart of the sea
or perhaps the freedom from-
the moorings;
a hike amongst those trees- reveals,
a path-
winding along; a shimmering lake
I notice-
distant feet, make the same, echoes ago I hear
and what seems like a pointless loop
pays far more fruitful
than the daily cycle, I commute

Notes: rat race… inferring we are rats, but perhaps, we are far worse, rats have a ceiling, a lack of expectation, a low limbo bar for sure, we, the humans, upright as we are, are capable of far more, but get caught in the grinder, the spinner, the everyday surf of a laundry machine always in motion but going nowhere… myself included, of course, just because I can see the shiny thing does not mean I am the shiny thing, maybe I am just as dumb as a rat, in that case may I be as tenacious…