how do we come at it again,
where do we find the reserves
to make one more charge,
to wreck ourselves
once more
upon this barren hill;
do we keep lying to ourselves,
in hopes some part of the journey
will change,
why do we believe;
a partial driver is need:
money is the currency of survival,
but we could find it elsewhere;
so what brings us back,
what piece inside us
makes us feel we need
to make this doomed assault
one more time;
the piece that makes
each of us
who we are
The Process
the spirit is willing
but the mind lags,
weighed down by crippling fear
disguised as deep thought,
the way forward is through
unbending determination;
dragging yourself
inch by treacherous inch
through the swamps
of the mind
until you understand:
you are your own strength,
you can match your spirit
what is there to lose,
in chasing after a dream
Wants
what is this wanting;
my pleasures are simple:
a good book,
a mug of steaming tea,
a blank page and a good pen,
a quiet walk in the sun,
an ocean to soothe my soul,
family;
I have all these -
and so much more -
at my fingertips,
so what is this unrest;
it is as though
I want something more
from the world,
it has nothing more to give;
what is it I want from myself,
what hollow desire
keeps me searching