Another poem

Repetition is funny thing,
Kind of like the tide, it will be back,
I will be back again in the same shoes, same desk, same headspace.
Ahhh
Sighs of boredom? Of complaint? Left without translation, just sighs.
That could mean anything…
Pain, loneliness, arrogance, displeasure, happiness.
I wonder if the world will end with a sigh. No great explosions, No war, just a sigh

The questions in my head swirl.
People talk about purpose and drive, as if it is always that easy.
I wonder if displacing an answer takes our responsibility away from asking it.
Find what drives you… blah blah blah
Sometimes I am those people
I wonder if it is safe to be honest to myself.
How do I quell this mutiny of the self?
Like a weathered Captain of old, I will smile at the storm as my ship sinks…
Maybe there is a better way

Old questions with the same answers
A sigh…
Not of relief, just a sigh, that could mean anything…
Oh, to have a new response, a new way forward, they would be like new shoes
Uncomfortable at first but they will become as old friends.
Throwing the net of questions far, yet pulling in nought
With hope and vigour, I cast the net, and with renewed enthusiasm, I pull it in,
Left only with exhaustion at my naked catch

Repetition is a funny thing.