Chores of the Ordinary

The hope and wish in me,
Not to be discussed or reviewed,
Is a distant vision of my calamity.

I do not desire something
That is distant or contrary,
Just the regular chore of the ordinary.

I wonder what should be next
As I eat on the forbidden fruit.
The desire was long ago,
And somehow I pledged a belief,
That if I got here I would surrender,
To whatever the Muse required.

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