It's a beautiful notion, the thought that counts
The idea that a human life can go along with the biological notion
A potion that compounds its interest in a consistent way
Thus is a career
And an education
And an obituary
For each the idea that a story happens in a series of steps
Planned for
And selected over and over
To be distilled into words
Don't you want that?
Don't you want to be able to explain what's going on?
To articulate why you're an entirely reasonable person, legitimate, visible
I want it.
Do I?
Really, though, I'm inexplicable
Maybe you can explain you
But ask me the same question
Today and tomorrow
And don't expect the same answer
Take that to it's logical, chronological conclusion
Your expectations may be clear
But I am not
The only thing that seems clear
Is that clarity
And consistency
Are not available
At least not to me
I got a little too in touch with "inexplicability"
Or just the right amount
And so history doesn't make sense
The future can't be predicted
And the present is confusing
But that is all right
It's taking Camus' absurd
A few steps more ridiculous
Without a pattern
One day a boulder and a mountain
Another day a stream and a fish
And a third day, Sartre's nausea, and a couch, and the disappearing act
On this fourth day, I'll pause and acknowledge that none of this fits together
Or makes sense
And while there will certainly be three more days
And then another seven
I can't tell you anything about them
And don't ask me to try
Roman Ryan 