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To whom it may concern, Epicurus is not dead
I keep on seeking a better feeling,
One to get me through the day,
And once that one becomes less appealing,
Then I'll find a new one with which to play.
Life can be about work and reputation,
Taking things as they come along,
Or it can be a celebration
Of freedom of choice,
And an end to right and wrong.
Perhaps it would be more worthwhile
If I found a way to contribute more,
But whether I reconsider how well-spent is my time
All depends on what, int the end I'm working for.
For fun I'll work for free,
For passion, any fee-
Cheap carousing is fine by me.
To alleviate my stress,
To infuse the hour with happiness
Or a little tension that could spark a fire,
Only that would be an exception
To the leisure from which I'll never tire.
Hedonism is a must,
It is free for all or bust
And more pleasure than is just;
What else could get you higher?
But though I want some bons temps
And to feel my senses reeling all around,
All the bliss known in the world
Might not in successive experience be found.
I need much more than that which is
Fair in love and war.
In both the aforementioned
Is a cause we're fighting for,
Though worthless it may be,
When all else fails, it is good enough for me.
In both the aforementioned
Exists a concept deserving of attention,
A reconnaissance of opposite spheres of the souls,
An understanding of our shared tolls,
And the price we pay with every best intention
When we choose to take on complementing roles.
Not to know, neither to see nor hear,
But just to be
And relish in each moment's time,
The gift of each step instead of how far I climb,
And whether I can look back and say
What is work without knowing how to play.
