Without Justification

This morning,
rather than diagnosing
and recommending,
in pragmatic prose,
a way through
the current crisis,
I sip tea and
practice being
irresponsible.

The dark masters
gather and grumble
at my indolence,
but I courageously resist
their muttered insults and
seductions.

I have grown old
and weary in
steadfast pursuit of
their fickle approval;
as if freedom could
happen at some other
time.

Every action balances
dungeon and delight:
the endless quest for
self-earned grace or
some rougher and
sweeter enterprise
depending only
on the air that
has already been
given.

This morning again
I practice resistance to
the ancient gods of Self
accomplishment and vow
to disappear into this
one life without
justification.