I stand, bewildered, bags in hand I sway,
A humble friend to all their wants and needs,
While men in ages past would hunt and play,
Now women’s slippers fill the market's seeds.

The modern age, it changes swift and wide,
Yet still I tread this path of hollow cheer,
As countless goods to the checkout slide,
My heart protests, though I pretend not here.

Amidst the throng, the laughter rings so clear,
Yet in this role, I find no joy within,
For every purchase holds a silent fear,
That life’s true chase is lost beneath the din.

Though bags I carry, dreams I cannot chase,
To stand as hunter’s mate feels out of place.

Tomaž Jevšenak