Life has become a continuum of daylessness, with only the rising moon and setting sun serving as reminders that the universe continues to unfold, not at my desire or design but of its own will and to its own cadence.
Purpose has taken leave. Or has it been given its discharge, dishonorably?
I have discovered that there is ample time in this daylessness for nothingness and the doing of nothing. Even on those days when I step out of doors, I step into nothingness. So I remain indoors. Mostly.
The TV screen finds me boring. I don’t make any of the sitcoms laugh out loud. I am just one channel. The TV cannot take a remote and switch me to something else. I have no definition, high or low. The TV usually turns me off. How boring a life my TV must lead.
Its life must be a continuum of daylessness.