The Great Doldrums

It descended on a Tuesday with the coming of the Spring
when all the world let loose a mighty yawn,and every
bed, every roll, every sleeping bag and loose assortment of leaves
was occupied with limpid slumber. Soldiers
laid down their leaden swords, and the beasts of the world
roamed free and unheeded by dreaming shepherds.
On awakening, a new and clear world was revealed in every heart:
a world without purpose; a world without achievement. And
men lost the urge to destroy and laid in their hotels,while those
able to grasp their loss descended to the sea, and poets and painters
sat in their cluttered rooms transfixed by the beauty of blank canvas.
No recovery was made and no recovery was possible, as the laboratories and
hospitals rotted with an unceasing, quiet death, and maggots flourished
where none would clean the wounds. And so it went, as the starlings swarmed in their thousands and feasted on the ruins of fields, while the millions starved
in their empty homes, and everything new became old and went to dust,
and the Earth limped on, its bones aching as they always have.

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