In retrospect,

The days go by in a blink of an eye

Shadows from the rising and setting of the sun

Flicker on and off like light bulbs on a haunted mansion.

Existentialist contemplations invoked on idle days

Bring about a taste for action and change,

But the flavor of lethargy overpowers the relish for activity

And all vigor in the body ceases to work in harmony.

In retrospect,

There is nothing in the brevity of days that will move –

an unwilling existence—

Content in the ennui of mundane every days

And complacent in the monotony of conformity.

Yet, we seek better days than the ones we choose to live

But unable to comprehend when it parades like a bitch in heat.

Mayhap we do, yet, the stupor clings.

In retrospect,

We endeavor but fear of the road takes hold

Leaving behind remnants of a dream once foretold.

We become paralyzed and we become trapped

In the vacuity of our own making.

Now, there isn't anything, but a vapid substance of life

Given not the joys or doldrums from the spirit of adventure.

Yet we continue.

In retrospect,

I spent my days in retrospect