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