Now that I stand here, some time has passed,
And I got back to the beginning of things,
Acquired all that’s common to wish
In the place I’m coming from:
I have a job. Appreciation.
A family. A room of my own.
I don’t have to live on bread and milk alone,
Nor standing in lines for chicken bones—
For one still dreams lukewarm comfort
Behind their purple hyperbole,
A fuzzy, neverending project
No one knows who ordered or what was the original plan,
While tallying the deadline on their skin,
And it’s just enough not to remember:
Happiness is not an end but the means.
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