I look out my window and my gaze is
met by the cold glitter in the sky.
The stars remind me how fruitless it is to
hope for the hopeless, no matter how I try.
And I know the stars can't help me
now, as they did in the days of old.
Yet I fell that the answers aren't out of
my reach, that they are mine to hold.
And I ask myself, it is
the answers that i seek?
or is the breath of life and adventure,
that so fragrantly surpasses this reek?
I find myself caught in the ageless desire
for more that has plagues our likes forever.
And I wonder who could best it, or what
schemes could possibly be so clever.
Can I not find passion in the very ordinary
and subtle air that I breath?
Will opportunity pass me by,
and my metaphoric sword will I sheath?
Though separated from that which makes me burn,
patience can be a fire all it's own.
Though frustration has peaked and desire is strong,
I will never be shaken or thrown.
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