The pages of my calendar revolve,
But your claims are anchored deep.
I think I am safe,
But really I am deceived:
You numb the sharp edges of my conviction;
You cool the fires of my passions and dreams;
You exchange the dangerous pursuit with banal distractions;
You shift my focus to the “pressing needs” of the moment.
I am frozen in your gaze,
Chained in the shackles of an idle, introspective indecision.