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 chooses
dungeon or delight:
the futile quest for
self-earned grace or
some rougher sweet
enterprise depending
only on what has already
been freely given.

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