Deoptimized Sustenance
On the follies of quantifying the human experience. A poem.
--
In the modern age, we’re told
To measure all we do and see,
With data points and graphs that hold
Our lives in strict captivity.
But is this the way we must live,
Bound by metrics and numbers to abide?
Or is there more we have to give,
More that lies beneath and inside?
For though we strive to optimize,
And seek to measure our every worth,
There's something more that we can't surmise,
A value that's more hidden, deep in the earth.
We are not just data points and lines,
Or figures on a screen, cold and stark,
We are mysteries of our own design,
Ethereal beings, whose depths remark.
Our moments are not just transactions,
Or mere boxes to be checked with ease,
They are glimpses into our own attractions,
Mystical moments of truth that we seize.
Success cannot be found in lists,
Or formulas and rules we follow,
It's something that we must seek and enlist,
Something beyond that is hard to swallow.
Life is not just a puzzle to be solved,
Or a problem to be fixed and refined,
It's a mystery that we must all involve,
A journey with secrets we must unwind.
To not be enslaved by data and stats,
Or by rigid rules that govern our fate,
But to explore the unknown that attracts,
The mystical depths of life we create.
Life’s breath is not about optimization,
Nor about the efficiency we crave,
But the wonder that lies beyond calculation,
It’s mystery that makes our souls brave.
