Searching for Eno

I sit, listening to dreamy,
cascading melodies

Thinking of Everything I've done
wrong this year.
And last year, and the year before that,
and the year before that, and the year
before that

Not Knowing when it will stop,
The stomach aches, the tears, the frustration,
the feeling of helplessness that comes in waves
at work, and at home.

I put it all into my work, my craft, my art,
and the job that pays the bills.
I put too much into the things that barely matter,
the things I loath in my soul, the things that ugliness
in the world force me to do.

I Wish I could live like Jack, or Hunter, or William,
or Allen, any of the great warriors of the human spirit.

Life beats me up so bad I want a do-over, another chance,
another life, another option.

Then

I look at the things I am grateful for.

but it doesn't kill the sting