Winsome wasted detritus drifting on capricious careless breezes.
Wrecked, wrought, wroth visiting viscous vapid variances.
Soul, self, identity, persona, a tapestry manifestly frayed.
Faltering assurances leave certainties uncertain.

Cold gray days in counter point to lifeless waking,
Eyes open and shut and open again in fear of rising.
Deathless existing living become a memory of refuse.
Blasted barren landscapes the canvas of career careening.

Where Love.  Where life.  Where passion moving expressly?
Where purpose?  The motion of moving, the cornerstone of self.
What good?  These that I see, those that I fight, that which survives?
Why again?  The teeming ebb and flow of every action and consequence,

Revisted.  Again.  Again.  Again.

Cycles of joy and pain joy and death life and the circle repeats.

Find myself wanting?  Find myself lacking.
Find strength in decay? Phoenix purose.
Find bravery, amidst base cowardice wallowing.
Find myself with more to give, more to see, to know, to teach.

Find myself trying … one more time.  Always …

One
More
Time.