Desk of Life

Sometimes I am a spinning top
Unstable and severe
And sometimes I’m a paper weight
Static and austere

I’m always on the desk of life
Peering off the edge
Or reading scribbled papers
While I spin around the ledge

But I proclaim there is no fate
Or if there is, I couldn’t know it
I can slink and sprawl
Or spin and fall
Or maybe just forego it.

Copyright © 2018 – Adam Light



I run from the setting sun
and hide in the cerebral night.
It will try again tomorrow
to catch me in the light.

Until then, though, I’m fine,
and I’ll pretend I have no foe.
The darkness is a haven,
lighted by familiar glow.

When the morning comes
and I’m chased by beams of terror,
I’ll look upon my long shadow
and ponder my strides of error.