Emotionless: One More

Stirring development,
Laughingly irrelevant
To my actual predicament
And well passed the sell by date,

So that lifting the waste bin lid
I ceremoniously dispose of it
And refuse another,
For as long as I can hold out;

But then, who knows the future?
If there is one,
Which is as uncertain
As this moment,

Composed of nothing,
Nevertheless so seemingly so,
Not nil
And yet lacking all substance;

And so begins
Another day
Of wordy speculation,
A new attempt,

A further effort
To express that
Which so many are seeking
But is just right here,

Hidden in plain sight
And unseen,
Because it’s ubiquitous
And therefore difficult to discern,

So subtle
And so obvious,
Like the complex odour currently flowing
From the pot of stew simmering on the stove;
Invisible but so compelling and self-evident.