An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète.
What is it about Sunday that makes it dreadful?
Is it the sorrow for the short respite now gone,
or stressful anticipation for a work week in full?
Whatever you’re feeling on this day, you’re not alone.
We resist returning to work on the Monday’s eve
out of reverence for the deserved weekend’s rest.
We perceive the weekend lost as a moment’s reprieve
from a taxing and tiring routine of the daily stress.
Weeks are an endless cycle of adjustment,
of discontent and relief constantly relived,
but psychologically placed on abstract moments
we can’t prevent, and make us combative.
Breathe in, let the feeling of stress pass through
and desert you as soon as it came in.
Nothing stalls your enjoyment but you
if you don’t mind the motions within.
I can’t get up on Sunday’s twilight
And keep the coming Monday at bay.
It’s not for me to judge, and relive what is right,
but I keep calm, and prepare for the new day.
It’s in our code, to fight or take flight
in the face of dangers concrete or perceived.
Workweek anticipation is the evolution of our blights
and the chaining restriction of what we don’t acheive.
The joys and relief from relaxed routines
Are much indulged on the waning hours of the workweek
And quickly lost in the busy motion of weekend scenes
That they are fickle and few come the new week.
So what is it about Sunday that we dread?
Is it Monday’s workload or the week’s perceived length?
But why the stress? Should it not be spread?
Seriously, though, waking up won’t lead to death.
The more we fight, the worse the week gets.
Weekend joys are many, coming and passing.
For stress is the foster of all our heart’s regrets
that worsen the experiences we ought be enjoying.
Fret not for the work week approaching,
just soak in the moment that’s coming and going.
These are the moments both so joyful and fleeting
that are soon lost, but we know will soon be returning.
cr: Live Life Happy