I work and I play and I work and I pray
for every other day
to be as productive as the one I had last week.
For every idea to be as brilliant as the one I had
before I gave in to sleep.
I wake, aggravated by the sun’s reminder that today is a new day.
Aggravated because the old day left so many things undone.
So many good intentions
so many masterful inventions of creativity
and I didn’t make a move on a one.
I could give a master class on procrastination
or write a book on creative…