Reflection: More

As I sit here, dripping wet with monotony, I wonder, is there more than just this?
Is there?
More than hands on a clock, more than sand in an hourglass, is there more?
More than hoping this too shall pass, pass onto what? I question myself until I’m passed out on the floor.
I cannot fathom that this is all there is to life.
A routine sullied by sunshine and moonbeams – is this really all there is to life?
An unending battle of day in and day out, there should be more.
More that can shroud me from the perils of reclusivity – if that’s even a word.
More that can propel me towards the dreams I continue to confuse for reality
Because this? This cannot be it all.
Must there be more?
Yes, there must be or else what am I? What are we?
If not sedentary creatures of simplicity.