An existential crisis on a Sunday,
makes for a productive Monday,
Today he’s done nothing,
Tomorrow he’ll do something,
The agonising dread,
springs him out of bed,
It forces him to recalibrate,
and cease the hate,
Why is he beaming?
He’s found meaning,
Now let’s hope,
next time he can’t cope,
his purpose will push him through,
the tough times that will come two by two.
Thomas Duggan 