Waxing philosophic for so many years has resulted
in a waxy build up on my sensory receptors.
The soft, numbing layer insulates my sensibilities,
catching and immobilizing slings and arrows,
binding them like flies in a web,
suspending them in disbelief.
Easy to rationalise, to let things slide,
subsume them into the waxy cocoon,
give the whole thing a quick polish and
start laying down the next layer.
But lately I’ve noticed crazes in the glaze.
The comfortable, hazy wax has hardened, yellowed.
It dulls my perceptions, slows my reactions,
colours my interpretations.
It may be time to strip off a few layers of comfort.
Pare off the waxy build up and the
pendant collection of outrageous fortune,
mould it all into a ball and send it rolling.
Send the whole proverbial ball of wax rolling.