Schedules, routines, an end to a means,

a day planned out minute by minute.

Productive, stressed, your planner would suggest,

but the day’s not so bad while you’re in it.

Trying new things, the joy that it brings,

but relying on feelings of comfort.

Growing is good, and happen it should,

but only with a familiar buffer.

But the world’s burning down, no buffer around,

and each day we lose a bit more.

We beg and we plead, and wish to be freed,

to return to the lives we adore.

We want the mundane, to go with the grain,

we reach and reach but can’t grab it.

We hope an ordinary day is not too far away,

because humans are creatures of habit.