STOIC POETRY | The news which is never old

Published: Aug. 20, 2020, 4 p.m.

I awoke today to headlines of war, and gossip, and scandal, and the rise of stocks and advertisements for soap, and a 30% chance of rain in the afternoon. I read these things over my breakfast, and thus did ready myself for a day of trivia, and minutia, and the heat and entropy of life spent over small things of no real consequence—another wasted day of distraction spent clamoring over the news. I must devote myself onlyTo the news which is never oldBut perhaps one day I might wake and step to the porch to walk past the paper into the sunlight of new dawn, where I might then strive to begin a better life: to declare war on what I believe is true, and slander the name of gossip, and assess for myself the day's elemental inclination to rain, and to put trivia and minutia to rout and seek the light and order of what considered folk before me have known, and said, and which will continue to be said by such people long after I am gone—another worthy day of good living spent in meditation upon the world. A day reviewing the news which is never old.