It is lacking.
My thoughts refuse to settle on any one thing. They dance around subjects, issues, things of importance. Like little primordial tribesmen dancing around bonfires, they worship at the altar of fire but do not linger near it.
They seem to like the things that have little practical importance. Issues of fun reading, debates on nonsense, blog posts.
Like chickens they wander erratic and pecking anything within reach.
My thoughts seek comfort and avoid the vagaries of political theory, of just wars and of global crime.
These quantities are unknown and unknowable and therefore dangerous. They lie off the map with the dragons. My thoughts shy away, drawn to bright, shiny things, the little insect bastards.
I am forced, time and again, to rein them in with a lasso of focus. To force them to pay attention to school, to write these papers, to get this work done and out of the way.
All the while, like a shining beacon on a hill, is the promise of promised land. America’s shores beckon, calling me home, calling me to break, to mental release. A place to relax, a place to celebrate, a place to unwind. My homeland is calling and my focus and thoughts seem to already be there.
I must call them back, must rein them in.
I know where they want to go, where they are running to. I cannot, nay will not, allow this. The time is not yet ripe, the die is not yet cast.
And so, for the moment, focus is needed, required.
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