Tar
Sticky, scalding and black, tar.
Assiduous, obnoxious and insistent, tar.
Rising like the chest burn on the treadmill,
When you feel like running and don't feel like arriving, tar.
When everyone wants what everyone else easily has,
When nobody seems to enjoy, what easily there is,
that cunning tar.
Glowing, steaming and offending on a hot summer day, tar.
Strangely absent as if it never was there in the first place.
And yet comes howling back down with the solid sun, tar.
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Oh! Heart and mind and the valiant warrior underneath.
It is okay if the fight is too hard.
It is okay if it does not seem worth it.
For whatever little blip we are, in this ageless universe,
It simply does not cut it,
To let the tar rule.
Facebook and Instagram might sing you,
The stories of million lives,
Yet know that it is all a kaleidoscope,
And you are watching, alone.
The only real fight is to afford honesty,
The only real enemy is suffering.
The true issue and motive and problem and solution,
is tar.
