The looping minimalist drones of life devour me.

Yet I cannot compose a new anthem.

I struggle to find the meaning in these simplistic rhythms and chords.

And yet the contrapuntal motion to which my life aspires fails to take root in this mundane cycle

What good is minimalism but to show us what life could be like

If we threw our intelligence into a river of grey matter

And sat in chairs staring at stone mirrors

That never stare back.

Reflection is not the same as repetition; insanity...

In fact it's the antithesis.

We keep on living in varied ways

While we ruminate on the past.

We can yet break free from this cycle of simplistic melodies

To create a music rich and true.