Decadancing

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I wonder if I never got it right,
imagining improvement as the goal.
The world has ever told me that I’m bright,
and all my life I’ve pondered what the whole
existence thing is for. My question’s why
before the how or what or even who.
My working theory’s always been to try
to be aware, and better as I do.

But maybe that’s the Calvinist in me.
My father was romantic, diligent
and Greco-Roman to extremity –
I fed on morals for my nutriment.
Perhaps the game is grasp and grin instead:
to party with the loved ones till I’m dead.

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