Another Day Of Doing Nothing

The day has gone by Nothing has been done There will be billions trillions of days In which I do nothing I do not know how many days I have left In which I could do something But this day is passing away Without my having written in it Until now- And like so much writing of mine These lines are more it seems To appease myself Than to give anyone else really anything. Is this then another day Like so many other days In which I deluded myself By thinking I did something? When I did nothing Whether I wrote that day Or not.