We had a team day the other week about ‘having the perfect day.’
One of the things raised was how science suggests that the second eight hours of the day is when you should complete creative tasks. The other day, I finished work and felt a spark of something creative. This ‘poem’ was the result.
I’m not sure if I can call it a poem really, but that’s the beauty of creative license - my writing can be whatever the heck it wants to be.
The working day ends,
And a peace settles.
Even with questions
Rising over what’s next.
Is it this,
Or is that?
Who knows,
But a peace settles
At the end of the working day.
Not every day.
Some days,
There is no peace.
Some days,
There are tears.
Some days,
There are fears.
Some days,
There are vents, and rants,
And cries, and lies.
But other days,
There’s this peace.
The mind ponders over
The difference between those days.
Is it other people?
And their inability to
Meet an undefined standard
in your mind.
Or is it yourself?
And how many boxes
You’ve ticked along the
Margins of your pad.
Or is that, on the peaceful days,
You decide to let it all go,
Without even knowing.
Maybe there is some advice
To be taken from an overplayed,
Icy Disney tune.
Because when you let it go,
And give over the control,
Anything can happen.