On a critical choice on Monday morning
On a critical choice on Monday morning
I have decided that joy is a decision.
I think it happened on a Monday
(in February if I'm correct,)
when I had overslept
because of overwork
and it was cold -
and Sunday
night had been anything but a Sabbath rest,
and the next twelve hours lurked
like Grendel in the fens -
but then again
that was just the day I decided joy
was a decision.
It's raining outside,
and the menacing form of Monday
now emerges from the swamplands yet again,
God-cursed and banished as is his lot,
bent on ravaging the joys
that light the halls of Heorot.
I've decided that joy
is a decision;
now all that's left for me to do
is open the door
and face the rainy morning,
picking up my sword
and choosing joy.
I have decided that joy is a decision.
I think it happened on a Monday
(in February if I'm correct,)
when I had overslept
because of overwork
and it was cold -
and Sunday
night had been anything but a Sabbath rest,
and the next twelve hours lurked
like Grendel in the fens -
but then again
that was just the day I decided joy
was a decision.
It's raining outside,
and the menacing form of Monday
now emerges from the swamplands yet again,
God-cursed and banished as is his lot,
bent on ravaging the joys
that light the halls of Heorot.
I've decided that joy
is a decision;
now all that's left for me to do
is open the door
and face the rainy morning,
picking up my sword
and choosing joy.
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