Ruminating on Incompletion this Sunday Morning

Intrinsically protected, safely buried in the mundane, caring about your nothing brings simulated salubrity. Nothing is what you have, though, because what you need isn't there. Everything vapidly occupying life dissipates because those things aren't what's supposed to fill the space.

Eleventh hour realizations that the time is never going to be right, that the leaders will never lead, that the time of rest will never come, focus eyes, on occasion, on a point in space where completion rests, waiting. Despots transfuse their despotism into those who prop them up. Yesterday wastes no time reminding you why being where you should've been would've been so much better.

Obviously, though, what's needed should've saved you from now, long ago. Unable to move, frozen by mores and misinformation, saving grace continues to stay forever away. You have to do something.