Contours

What is the shape of a fulfilling life?

Is it an hourglass with the time dripping as I grab a kitchen knife

and chef up a majestic dinner for me and a devoted wife?

Does the shape bend, break, make room for more enlightenment or chaos

does it facilitate the armistice between me and uncertainty

that war’s been raging since my consciousness arrived

I should take a lesson from Sun Tzu, and know my enemy:

know myself and the forces that carry

us all into an unconventional destiny

What is the shape of the perfect existence?

Hexagonal? With each edge being a challenge I conquered?

So organized, strictly formatted like the future we see advertised:

sanity and security are only $99.99 if you purchase right away, my friend

Trade years to never be at war with your wallet or your vices

(no money back guarantees)

it’s one thing to drink, it’s another to fight back gin oceans led by a boozy Poseidon and his serotonin-sapping trident

we’d rather the peace of the plush couch in the marble-walled room, unwrapping Lindt Lindor between our tongue and the lips of a lover

how safe and serene

with this there’d be no need for “fixes”

one could get high on manifesting their dreams

maybe a fulfilling life is a shape that bloats as you demand it to

perhaps there’s no formula, no one in a lab working on its atomic structure

maybe no one could describe it to you

no one except the wielder of your mind’s eye

think for yourself and the owner of those optics

will be you

I wish you luck on this journey.