The Shift: The Strain of Duty
The perfection of childhood.
The blossoming of flowers,
The lush, green grass,
The mild warmth of the sun.
Children playing in the park,
Swinging and sliding joyfully,
Teasing each other.
The cold, silent autumn winds
Ceased the poignant reminiscence.
Startled, I became aware of the path I trod.
Discerning the stark disparity between
The current reality and past memory,
A life centered around
As purpose succumbed to objective,
That sidewalk became the entire track.
As binding tasks consumed identity,
Attempts to surpass deadlines had become
a tiresome burden.
What once was Life
had mutated into something
twisted and mechanical.