With much occurring and yet naught at all.
The tension's built up too much and so soon
I've got to let it out. My bike doth call.
What did I ever do before Deep Blue
When situations rose that drove me nuts?
I no longer remember, have no clue
Just how I used to pull myself from ruts.
My bicycle and sonnets rule my days.
'Tis discipline, I think, which is all good
But days like this I feel somewhat enslaved
To both, but realize, try as I would
That habits, good, or bad, govern me still
I only think I've something like free will.