And verily, to think of you is to think of myself
How I mess up and bide, and unhinge and fly
Commotion and consequence over a tedious ride
What stands out in an arduous trail, is not the tribulation or the toil
but the gnawing at the heart of the purposeless broil
Wish there were meanings of language, emotion et al.
As so much that resides is nothing but a notion – unguided and untied