Groundhogs in Business Suits
Groundhogs don suits each dawn, chickens in the human parade,
A loop of repetition where each role is replayed.
Feathers or skin, it matters not, as routine takes its toll,
In the monotony of days, where stories unfold.
Wings are clipped, hearts bear familiar dings,
Echoes of the same, as the carousel spins.
A symphony of sameness, a recurring song,
A lifelong journey where the days prolong.
Turtles in the commute, snails in the routine,
Daily cycles unfold, a familiar scene.
Shells in the office, rockets on the street,
A repetition of roles, a rhythm so fleet.
The calendar pages turn, but the story stays the same,
In the familiar script, life plays its game.
A cosmic clock ticking, an inevitable tie,
In the cycle of repetition, until one day, we die.
*All of this is meaningless*
In the depths of existential pondering, one may perceive a void in the apparent meaning of existence. Yet, within the chasm of the psyche, a journey unfolds—a symbolic trek amidst the archetypal waters and arboreal ascent. In the mystic realms of the unconscious, the pursuit of meaning transcends the rational, intertwining with the primordial essence of nature. In the silent contemplation of aqueous depths and the arboreal embrace, we may encounter the individuation process, a transformative odyssey where the self converges with the collective unconscious. Embrace the symbolic dance, for in the nuanced choreography, the latent purpose of our being may reveal itself.